


You Don't Know Me

by AnImportantDistinction



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Danny and Stiles kiss, Danny helps Stiles, Danny helps Stiles with his magic, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt Stiles, I'm really mean to Stiles, Injured Stiles, Kidnapped Stiles, M/M, Pack Feels, Stiles did alot for the pack, Stiles has a lot of injuries, Stiles is kidnapped by witches, Stiles was assualted, Stiles was kidnapped as a kid, The pack doesn't pay attention, Tortured Stiles Stilinski, Witch Danny Mahealani, almost raped, asked out all the time, but eventual Sterek, eventual apology, hot Stiles, it's okay though danny saves him, like really hot, so don't worry Sterek fans, the pack never knew, the pack sees Stiles' memories, they all feel guilty, they really didn't know anything though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 08:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 25,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16114778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnImportantDistinction/pseuds/AnImportantDistinction
Summary: Stiles has always been there for the pack, risking his safety for them, without them noticing.When a coven witches turns up in Beacon Hills to take over, they take Stiles, the seemingly defenseless human of the pack. When the pack finally finds him, Stiles' memories are broadcasted into their minds, and they see just how much Stiles has suffered not just for them, but throughout his entire life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, this is my first fic, and my summary is awful, but I hope you give this a chance!!  
> I'm pretty much done writing the fic, just a few more chapters to go, so it'll all be up here pretty soon. I know I hate starting unfinished fics, so you can subscribe or mark it for later if you want to wait until it's all uploaded, which, again will be very soon.  
> And don't worry, I won't bail on this fic! I hate when I get wrapped up in a fic and it never gets finished, but I promise I won't do that!  
> I also wanted to say that comments are greatly appreciated and inspire me to write more often! I love interacting with people and hearing what they think of my fics!  
> UPDATE: Finished fic!

Stiles was exhausted. The pack was out chasing off more supernatural creatures at midnight, tonight it was a powerful, and, not that Stiles would admit it to the pack, but slightly terrifying witch coven. Heading out late at night to stop the newest big bad had become a regular activity for the pack, occurring at least four times a week. 

The night before, the pack had run off into the preserve to stop an omega werewolf that decided to stroll into town, ready to turn half the population of Beacon Hills in order to build up his pack. 

Stiles didn’t have the best night, seeing as the omega decided to draw four long gashes across his chest as he was just finishing the circle of mountain ash, being the only one in the pack other than Lydia that could touch it. Even though Stiles didn’t necessarily want to go near the omega to trap him, there was no way he would let Lydia endanger herself to do it.

The only good news was that nobody in the pack saw it, or heard the whimper that escaped his lips, which was surprising, seeing as they all had supernatural hearing, but they were all too busy discussing what they should do with the freshly caught omega. Erica suggested that they kill him, to prevent him from turning any innocent people, but Scott was very insistent that they send him out of town with a warning. Derek growled at this suggestion, not wanting to let someone so dangerous get away. 

Stiles, of course, didn’t stick around long enough to hear their final decision, stumbling away from the clearing they were in to get to his jeep as fast as possible.

“STILES!” he heard Scott shout after he made it about two steps out of the clearing.

By now, blood was gushing out of his wounds, his gray t-shirt a bright crimson. He pulled at his flannel to cover his chest, but turned only his head to talk to Scott.

“Dude, where are you going? Aren’t you going to stay to help us make a decision?” Scott asked, looking thoroughly frustrated as the pack disagreed with his suggestions.

“Oh, um sorry guys, forgot that I promised my dad I’d be home before eight so we could have dinner together.” He lied, before quickly turning back around and rushing off to his jeep.

After stumbling around for ten minutes, Stiles finally found where he’d parked at the edge of the woods earlier that night. He jumped into his jeep, throwing on an old, luckily red, hoodie he had stuffed in his trunk, so his dad didn’t notice he was bleeding when he got home later. The blood still seeped through the hoodie, staining his brick red hoodie a darker crimson where his wounds were. Stiles groaned, his dad would definitely be able to tell he was bleeding under the hoodie, and the absurd amount of dirt he was covered in from being shoved to the ground so many times didn’t help either.

Stiles' phone vibrated, and he picked it up to see a text message from his dad.

“Hey kiddo, taking the night shift tonight. Won’t be home for a while. See you in the morning. Love you. Dad.”

Stiles typed out a quick reply, “Ok. Love you too”, before pulling out of the preserve and heading home. At least one of his problems was solved.

The adrenaline from the night began to fade a few minutes into the drive, and Stiles felt the full effects of his injury. His chest was throbbing, and all he could think was that all of his werewolf friends would have healed by now. His pain tolerance had definitely increased, seeing as he got injured several times a week, whether it was a broken arm or concussion, but all of his injuries still hurt, still weakened him.

Stiles never told the pack when he got injured, and on the rare occasion that they actually noticed, it was because it was glaringly obvious, like the time he twisted his ankle and couldn’t walk back to his jeep by himself.

He knew that they all had bigger problems than his physical state, but he always thought that it would be nice if they paid a little more attention to him, seeing as he was the only human in the pack other than Allison, but she could protect herself fairly well, coming from a family of hunters. All Stiles had was a baseball bat and sarcasm, which surprisingly helped him quite a bit. Being unable to keep his mouth shut had helped him a few times when he distracted whoever they were fighting long enough for the pack to notice he was in trouble and come save him. He usually had to talk for a pretty long time. Or until the monster stopped listening and just attacked him.

More often than not, though, his babbling got him in trouble, like when he insulted a wendigo, which got majorly pissed at him. Or when he mouthed off to his least favorite teacher, Mr. Harris, earning him a few hours in detention, which happened pretty regularly.

Stiles shook his head a bit to rid himself of his thoughts, trying to focus on the road, and not on the overwhelming urge to throw up from the amount of pain he felt.

When Stiles finally arrived home, he couldn’t fight it any more, he staggered over to the bushes at the front of his house to throw up, before heading inside to clean up his wounds.

He slowly made his way up the stairs, moving into his bathroom and grabbing his hidden emergency kit under his sink. He pulled out a needle and some sewing thread, before starting the long, agonizing process of stitching himself up. A few whimpers escaped his lips, but other than that, he stayed silent, not wanting to cry out and have the neighbors hear him through the bathroom window, which he had opened to get some fresh air.

An hour later he was panting and in pain, but no longer bleeding out. He turned on the shower, keeping the water cold, making sure not to jostle and aggravate his injuries by keeping his back to the stream of water. After he stepped out of the shower, he took a few pain relievers and collapsed on his bed, exhausted from the physical pain, and stress, of constantly chasing down whatever monster had turned up that night in their never-ending fight to protect the town.

Stiles was glad he was helping keep everyone in Beacon Hills safe, but he didn’t know how many more injuries and how much more exhaustion he could take. Despite this, he knew he would never stop helping the pack, never stop going on late night trips to the preserve to take out whatever insane supernatural creature that decided to show up that night.

Stiles drifted off into an uneasy sleep thinking of his life, all he had been through so far, from his mom dying, to being kidnapped by Gerard that one awful night. He spent the night having nightmares, like he usually did, waking up with a cold sweat, a silent scream on his lips, calling for Scott or Derek or anyone to find him.

But that was last night. Tonight, he was in even more deep shit with a coven of witches, and his distracted pack.


	2. Chapter 2

A coven of witches, that was something new. Stiles knew witches existed of course, he had read the Argent’s bestiary enough times that he would be able to identify almost any supernatural creature that decided to attack. But a coven of witches actually showing up in Beacon Hills? That definitely wasn’t something Stiles ever even considered happening. He should have at least anticipated something like this, knowing about the whole Nemeton situation, when Scott, Allison, and him had sacrificed their lives for their parents, turning the Nemeton into a beacon that attracts supernatural creatures.

Stiles knew that it was probably denial. He barely made it out of battles with werewolves, wendigos, and other creatures that decided to show up repeatedly. They knew how to fight these things. They knew how to either talk them down and send them away (when Scott won the arguments), or kill them when they were dangerous (when the pack won the arguments).

The pack definitely wasn’t prepared for something as powerful as a coven of witches, especially one that outnumbered their pack. There were the werewolves, Scott, Jackson, Isaac, Derek, Erica, and Boyd, the banshee, Lydia, the well-trained hunter, Allison, and the human, Stiles, aka, the only-good-for-research member of the pack, as he thought of himself. That gave their pack a total of nine. The terrifying coven of witches happened to have twelve members.

The day that the witch coven decided to show up in Beacon Hills was a Friday, which was the only good thing about that day. Stiles had woken up with his chest throbbing from the night before. He had taken a few more painkillers and headed downstairs.

When he had gotten downstairs, he and his dad had gotten into a fight, his dad was upset when he found some blood on Stiles’ bathroom floor. He knew, of course, about the supernatural, but Stiles regretted ever letting him find out. He had told Stiles that he wasn’t allowed to go out with the pack at night, but most nights he was too busy working the night shift, or not paying enough attention that Stiles could slip out of his window without his dad ever finding out.

Now, he knew. He had seen the blood on the bathroom floor and, being the Sheriff, was able to deduce that Stiles had snuck out the night before, and had probably been doing it for a while. He finally put together the pieces that his usually overworked, exhausted mind hadn’t bothered to, like Stiles coming home covered in dirt all the time, his brand new sneakers muddy the day after he had bought them, and constantly seeming to have cuts and bruises on his body, insisting that he was just clumsy, falling down the stairs. The sheriff always accepted his excuses, knowing Stiles had always been the type of kid to get into trouble, and he figured the dirt and mud was from lacrosse. But when the Sheriff saw the smear of blood on Stiles’ bathroom floor and a first aid box that a tired and hurting Stiles had forgotten to put away, he figured it out. And he was pissed.

Stiles got to school that day, thoroughly frustrated with his dad for yelling at him, and guilty for lying to him all this time. Looking back though, he wouldn’t change anything. If his dad knew, he wouldn’t have let him go out, and Stiles would have felt even more useless than he already felt. Still, it didn’t make his dad any less angry with him. 

Stiles knew he wouldn’t see his dad all weekend. When his dad got this upset, he usually spent the weekend taking every shift possible and sleeping on the couch in his office, which only ever made Stiles feel even more guilty.

Because of all this, when Stiles walked into Mr. Harris’s class first thing that morning, he used his sarcasm and inability to shut his mouth as a way to vent his anger, all directed towards his least favorite teacher. Stiles ended up receiving detention that night, and then getting sent to the principals office when he decided to add in some more snarky comments.

“Stilinski. Do you really want me to send you to the principal’s office right now?” Harris had said. “Because I would gladly do that if you say one more word.”

“If you don’t want a sarcastic answer, sir, then don’t ask such a stupid question.” Stiles had replied, smirking at the quiet snickers he heard around the classroom.

“Principal’s. Now.” Harris growled through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowed.

Stiles had strolled out of the room, trying to look as casual as possible. The principal had ended up calling his dad, which Stiles knew would only increase the tension between them, before sending him back to class.

Mr. Harris had spent the remainder of class humiliating and mocking Stiles, which only pissed Stiles off even more. 

“Are you always this awful to listen to?” Stiles had taunted, “Or are you just making a special effort today?”

This reply had just resulted in Scott whispering for Stiles to shut up, and Harris granting him three more detentions.

Stiles went to AP Calculus after that, where he got back a test that he hadn’t had time to study for, all of his free time going to helping the pack or sleeping off his exhaustion. He had failed the test with a 54, his teacher had asked him to stay after school to discuss his performance in the class with him.

The rest of the day had gone pretty much the same, bad grades, disappointed teachers, and an increasingly frustrated Stiles.

Stiles stayed after to talk to his AP Calculus teacher, who reprimanded him for his lack of focus in the class, then suggesting that he consider dropping it altogether. This conversation caused Stiles to show up late to detention with Harris, who spent twenty minutes talking about respect and punctuality, then extending the detention and additional two hours as punishment. Stiles had spent the next several hours sitting there, trying not to think about how much his chest hurt, the painkillers having worn off hours ago.

Needless to say, Stiles was not in a good mood by the time he got home, so when his phone started ringing with calls from the pack, he almost hadn’t answered.

“Hello?” he grumbled when he finally decided to pick up, waiting until the last second.

“Stiles. Why haven’t you been picking up your phone?” Derek’s voice growled through the phone.

Stiles ignored his question. “What do you need, Sourwolf?”

“Meet us at the preserve. Now.” Derek ordered.

“What monster decided to come along to piss us off this time?” Stiles groaned.

“Witches. Twelve of them. Hurry.” Derek said in his usual growly and commanding manner.

Stiles almost dropped his phone in shock, his eyes bulging wide open. “Holy shit.” He whispered, but before he could ask any questions, Derek hung up.

Stiles pulled himself out of bed and set off to the preserve, knowing tonight probably wasn’t going to end well.


	3. Chapter 3

When Stiles had pulled up at the pack’s usual meeting place outside of the preserve, the entire pack was already waiting there for him.

“What took you so long?” Derek growled.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I got detention from the lovely Mr. Harris, Sourwolf.”

“Don’t call me that.” Derek ordered. Man, did this guy ever not growl and order people around?

“Somehow I don’t think your inability to take a joke is our most important problem right now.” Stiles snarked back. “Where are these psycho witches we need to take out?”

“Actually,” Lydia started, “we don’t know anything about them. They could be peacefu-”

“-No witch would ever be peaceful with a pack of werewolves, Lyds.” Stiles interrupted. “Sorry to ruin the positivity that Scott seems to be infecting you with.” He said with a smirk.

The pack ignored his last comment. “You don’t know that.” Allison said. “They could have come here looking to settle down, not knowing that we had already claimed the area.”

“They know we’re here.” Derek gritted out.

“How do you know that?” Erica queried.

“They left their coven’s symbol on the door to the old Hale house.” Isaac replied after Derek didn’t answer.

“So, there’s a crazy coven of witches out there, who know the pack is here, and they left a warning symbol on the Hale house door?” Stiles asked in disbelief.

“How do you know it’s a warning symbol?” Allison asked.

Stiles looked at her with an expression of faked pity. “Come on, Allison. We all know that these witches didn’t come out here to be the best of friends with us.”

“He’s right.” Lydia said. “Allison, Scott, we need to think realistically. This coven of witches is probably here to kill us all and take over Beacon Hills, like every other supernatural creature that’s ever come here.”

“I haven’t even said anything!” Scott said incredulously.

“We all know what you were thinking.” Boyd said, and everyone looked at him in shock, he rarely contributed to pack conversations.

After a few seconds of everyone staring at Boyd, Erica spoke up. “What? It’s true.” She said, defending Boyd. “Now, let’s talk about what our plan is.”

Everyone turned to look at Stiles.

“Me? Really? I mean, I know I do all the research for you guys, but I just got here. Shouldn’t you all have thought up some brilliant plan while I was on the way over?”

When no one responded, only raised their eyebrows at him, Stiles huffed out, “Fine. Lucky for all of you, I’m brilliant enough to already have a few ideas.” The pack all rolled their eyes at him, but he continued talking anyways. “I’m thinking we have the werewolves sniff them out. Once we find them, we keep our distance, but try to get them to talk, find out as much information as possible. Then we do anything we can to take them down. The werewolves can attack, Allison can see if shooting some arrows will work, I don’t know. If all else fails, Lydia can scream at them and blast them out of the way, and we can all run out of there as fast as we can.”

The entire pack just stared at him for a few seconds.

“What?” Stiles finally said.

“That’s it? That’s your brilliant plan? Just run in there and wing it? I already didn’t think very highly of you, Stilinski, but I thought you’d come up with something better than that.” Jackson scoffed out.

“You got any better ideas, wolfy boy?” Stiles said through gritted teeth. “I don’t see any of you coming up with a better plan.”

Stiles was sick of getting this kind of treatment from the pack, getting ridiculed even though he was the only one actually coming up with any ideas. The only one researching to find out any information he could about whatever supernatural creatures they were fighting that week.

“Come on guys” Scott sighed. “Let’s just try it, I guess. If it doesn’t work, we can just regroup at Derek’s loft and try to take them down tomorrow night.”

Everyone in the pack groaned, and Stiles was seething. He knew the plan wasn’t his best, but they had absolutely zero faith in him, even though his plans always ended up working out. He tried to calm his anger, and hoped the pack weren’t paying enough attention to him to sense his anger, but he wasn’t too worried. He knew they probably weren’t.

“Hopefully this plan doesn’t get us all killed.” Erica mumbled, and the rest of the pack nodded in agreement.

Stiles wanted to storm off into the preserve, away from all of them, but he didn’t want the pack to know how much their words had hurt him, and he knew the wolves had to go into the woods first in order to track the coven’s scent. 

Instead, Stiles walked at the back of the pack. He was still in pain from his wounds from the night before, and he didn’t want any of the wolves to smell his pain or blood. He had felt one of the stitches pop as he was getting out of his jeep, and he was sure that he could feel a few drops of blood dripping down his torso. Luckily, he was wearing a black shirt with a red flannel today, so no red would be visible through his clothing.

As they walked, Stiles thought of his dad. Looking back, he was angry with himself for letting his dad down, but his dad had to understand that it couldn’t have happened any other way. Stiles needed to help the pack, to go out to stop the latest monster from destroying their town. He needed his dad to be safe, and this was how he was going to protect him. As the Sheriff, his dad had a massive target on his back already, he didn’t need any more trouble.

He knew his dad wanted the same for him, for Stiles to be safe and far away from trouble, but his dad had to know by now that Stiles couldn’t just sit idle, waiting for others to do things that he could do himself. If that meant helping the pack, even if they treated him horribly, then he would do it.

Suddenly, a voice shocked Stiles out of his thoughts. “Well, look at what we have here.” The voice was mocking and loud enough to echo all around them and cause Stiles to jump in the air. He looked around, looking for the owner of the voice. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, and apparently hadn’t noticed that he had just walked into a clearing full of witches.


	4. Chapter 4

The pack all stood there in shock until Scott finally spoke up.

“Hi, um…” Scott said, trailing off when he realized he didn’t know any of their names.

“Alice” one of the witches spoke up. The pack assumed that this was the leader of the coven.

“Sorry, um, Alice. We came to let you know that this territory, Beacon Hills, has already been claimed by our pack, the Hale pack.” Scott said, shuffling his feet. Stiles rolled his eyes, it was blatantly obvious that Scott was nervous. He couldn’t blame him, they all knew how powerful witches were, but Stiles knew that if they had any chance of coming out of this on top, they had to seem powerful and confident, and Scott was exuding the exact opposite of that.

“Well, _Hale pack_ , we have come to take this territory from you. We have heard of the power of the Nemeton, and believe that it can increase the power of our magic. A useless pack of werewolves like you has no need for the Nemeton’s power. It will only bring you trouble, as I am sure you already know.” Alice stated.

Luckily, Derek decided to speak up, taking control of the conversation from Scott. “This is our territory. We protect the town of Beacon Hills, and we are perfectly capable of keeping any invading supernatural creatures at bay.” He growled.

“You’re the Alpha I assume?” she smirked. “Well, _Alpha Hale_ ” she said in a mocking tone. “We’ll give you one chance. You can either leave now and walk out of here unharmed, or, otherwise, maybe we’ll steal that precious little human of yours.”

Everyone in the pack whipped around to look at Allison. _Really_? Stiles thought. _She even looking directly at me while she was speaking. Goes to show how concerned they are about me_.

“Not the girl. Him.” She said, pointing towards Stiles. “I think that he and I would have a lot of fun together.” A grin spread across her face, along with all the other witches’. “ _Although_ , maybe he isn’t as precious to your pack as I had assumed. Not a single one of you were even concerned for him when I said I would take a human.” She said, still grinning.

“Listen” Scott said. “Let’s just take a few minutes to talk about all of this. We can all walk out of here alive, without starting any fighting or kidnapping anyone.”

Somehow, Alice’s smile grew even wider. “Aren’t we lucky today?” She asked, looking around at the other witches in her coven. They all flashed evil grins and nodded. “Looks like we’ve stumbled upon a peaceful werewolf pack. The only one we’ve found so far that hasn’t, and doesn’t even want to, attack us.”

“So, you’ll talk with us then?” Scott asked hopefully, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

Alice’s expression turned into one of pity, but it was obvious it was fake. “Oh, honey. I don’t think so.” 

Before anyone could react, Alice quickly conjured a burning hot, bright orange fireball into her hand and threw it at Scott, who dived out of the way just in time.

Derek growled, angry that she had attacked Scott, and lunged at her. The pack watched as Derek flew through the air at Alice, but, when Derek was about a foot away from her, his body was suddenly frozen in midair, surrounded by a strange shimmering purple substance, as if the air had changed color around him.

“Did you really think you could just throw yourself at a witch as powerful as myself, or even any of the other witches in my coven?” Alice taunted. “Cassandra, Gwen, Roberta, Ingrid, Agatha, Samona, and Morgana, go take care of the rest of the pack. Selene, come take care of the Alpha for me.” Alice demanded. Another one of her evil grins spread across her face as she said, “I’ll take the human.”

Stiles forced himself to grin as he said confidently to the witch, “Do any of you not have stereotypical witch names? Or is that some weird tradition you guys have?”

The pack were now all hovering a foot above the ground, frozen, each by their own witch, as the three extra witches in the coven strolled along outside the group. They all had looks of horror on their faces as Stiles taunted the witch, all of them terrified by what was about to happen, wanting to beg him to stop. They had no idea what the witches were capable of, and definitely didn’t want to find out.

Stiles watched as Alice strode towards him, noticing out of the corner of his eye that the pack’s frozen bodies were slowly being turned to face him and Alice by the witches holding them in place.

“Why don’t we start off by learning your name?” Alice said to Stiles, waiting expectantly for his answer.

“Could we maybe start off with something easier?” Stiles joked, not wanting to give in to the witch any sooner than he had to.

“Ok, here’s the deal. You don’t answer my question, I torture one of your precious pack until you come around. I’m thinking we start with puppy dog eyes over there.” she said, motioning to Scott.

Stiles rolled his eyes, trying to find a way out of this.

“Stiles.” He finally said reluctantly as she started to walk closer to Scott and he couldn’t think of anything. “My name’s Stiles.” He sighed.

Alice smirked, obviously pleased with herself for getting him to speak so easily. “ _Stiles_.” She said, letting it roll off her tongue. “Strange name. I wonder how your parents chose that one.” she added mockingly.

“At least it’s better than _Roberta_.” Stiles spat back.

“Stubborn _and_ sarcastic. I was correct in saying earlier that we would have some fun tonight.” Alice said, before promptly moving over to Stiles with a newly formed glowing ball in her hands.

“Get away from him!” “Stay back!” “Leave him alone!” The pack finally spoke up, shouting at the witch.

Alice just ignored them and chuckled before saying, “Good night, Stiles.”

They all watched as Alice lifted the orange ball up to Stiles’ heart before pushing it straight through his chest.

Stiles forced himself not to cry out at the flash of pain, which resulted in a a small whimper escaping his lips. Within seconds, blackness clouded his vision, causing him to collapse to the ground unconscious.

The wolves all winced when they heard Stiles’ whimper and the sound of his body hitting the forest floor. They would have gone ballistic and attacked the witches if they could move, but they were still frozen in midair.

“What did you just do to him?” Scott shouted at the witch.

“Don’t worry, he’s just passed out for now.” Alice replied, already turning to the rest of the witches in the coven.

“Let’s move out, ladies.” She called out casually, waving her hand so that Stiles’ unconscious form drifted up from the ground to float beside her.

The witches all followed her out of the clearing, leaving the pack behind, hovering in the same spots.

Derek growled at her retreating form. “Where are you taking him?”

“Do you really think I’m going to tell you that, _Big Bad Alpha_?” she taunted, not turning to look at him. “Don’t worry, we’ll make him easy enough to find.” Alice said before moving out of view, with eleven other witches and an unconscious Stiles in tow.


	5. Chapter 5

About twenty minutes after the witches left, the pack was freed from the spells the witches had cast on them. They immediately rushed forward to the spot where Stiles had been standing before the witches had left with him.

“How could we have let this happen? Just let him get taken like that?” Scott whimpered.

“Scott, it’s not our fault. Those witches outnumbered us, and we knew that they would be able to overpower us before we even found them. We should never have followed Stiles’ plan. We all knew it was a bad idea.” Derek said to the pack.

“He’s right. It’s Stilinski’s fault. If he hadn’t come up with such an idiotic plan, this wouldn't have happened in the first place.” Jackson complained.

“Well before we start placing any of blame, although this isn’t anyone’s fault, I think our priority right now should be finding Stiles.” Lydia interjected. “The witch, Alice, said that she would make Stiles easy enough to find, didn’t she? Can you guys catch his scent so we can track him?”

“Yeah.” Isaac replied. “It’s pretty strong right now. We just need to follow it off in the direction they took him.” He said, already starting off out of the clearing.

The rest of the pack followed behind, with Derek eventually taking the lead, as the Alpha of the pack.

Derek secretly hoped that none of the pack could sense how scared he was for Stiles, afraid that they would find out how much he had come to care for him. Derek always treated Stiles pretty harshly, shoving him into walls and constantly growling at him, but he did it so his true feelings didn’t show through. Derek had fallen in love with Stiles on the night that Derek was paralyzed by the kanima, when Stiles held him above water for hours. He didn’t have to save Derek, he barely knew the guy. On top of that, the only times they had interacted before, Derek had treated him awfully, and smashed his face into his steering wheel. Derek was surprised he didn’t just save himself and get the hell out of there.

Derek had learned a lot about Stiles that night. Stiles had risked his own life to save someone he barely knew. Stiles was courageous, sarcastic, stupidly loyal, and a better person than any of the pack could ever be. Not that Derek thought the pack were bad people, but they all had some major faults, like Lydia was self-centered at times, although she was getting better, and Jackson acting like an asshole 24/7, which, unfortunately, hadn’t improved.

Derek wasn’t sure exactly what his feelings for Stiles meant, if he wanted to be with him or just be good friends, but he felt like his wolf was leaning towards being with Stiles, even mating with him.

This terrified Derek because he wasn’t sure that Stiles felt the same. Even if he did, Derek was only ever cruel to him, so he definitely thought that Derek didn’t like him back. Derek desperately wanted to tell the pack, ask them what they thought he should do, but he knew that they would laugh at him, and Jackson would make a snarky comment about how Stiles has never even kissed anyone before, let alone dated someone. The other problem was that Scott would probably be horrified at the idea of Derek dating his best friend, and Derek didn’t want to create any tension between them, he had already noticed how much their friendship had suffered since Scott had been bitten. Scott now chose Allison over Stiles, treating him like he was nothing. Hell, Scott paid more attention to _Jackson_ than he did Stiles.

Derek couldn’t believe that Stiles put up with Scott, but then again, Derek didn’t treat him any better.

Maybe he should just tell Stiles how he felt about him, that he really did care for him, even if he didn’t show it.

About fifteen minutes into their search, just as Derek was reaching his decision about telling Stiles, he was interrupted from his thoughts by a sudden shout.

“Hey! Derek, are you paying attention?” Scott called out.

Derek looked up at Scott and said, “What? Oh, yeah.” He sniffed around. “His scent ends right at the entrance to that warehouse.”

“We already know that. We were just discussing how we were going to get inside.” Erica replied, not harshly, but obviously annoyed that Derek hadn’t been listening to the discussion.

“Well, since the witches are most likely inside of there, I say that you guys boost me up to that window so I can shoot some arrows down, while you guys head in, take them down, and look for Stiles.” Allison suggested.

The pack agreed and moved to lift her up, but Derek stopped them.

“No.” he said, and the pack looked at him in shock. “They’re too powerful. If they could freeze _me_ in midair while I lunged at them, then they could definitely do that to an arrow. You’d be in too much danger.”

“He’s right, Ally.” Scott said to Allison. “Why don’t we take a few minutes to think of a better plan, one that doesn’t involve you shooting arrows at a coven of powerful witches?”

The pack all nodded in agreement. Just as they were about to start discussing what they should do, they were interrupted by a sudden scream echoing from inside of he warehouse they were standing in front of.

“Stiles.” Derek whispered, horrified.

“Guys, I don’t think we have time to think of a plan.” Lydia said to the pack, looking pale.

“We need to get in there. Now.” Derek growled, already setting off to the warehouse, knowing the pack was behind him.

The pack walked up to the front door of the warehouse and kicked it down. When they all shuffled in, they stood in shock at the entrance, horrified by what was waiting for them.


	6. Chapter 6

When Stiles woke up, his chest was still throbbing from the slash marks he acquired the previous night, which were still slowly oozing blood. His heart, the place where the witch had pushed the glowing ball into his chest, felt…weird. Not good, that’s for sure. It felt tingly, like there was an itch under his skin that he knew he wouldn’t be able to scratch. Nevertheless, he started to lift his arm to attempt to scratch the itch, get the weird feeling to go away, but his arm wouldn’t move.

Stiles finally opened his eyes. He was in what looked like an empty, abandoned warehouse. He couldn’t be sure, but that was the best guess his tired brain could come up with. He felt like he was lying on a table, with his arms and legs tied down.

He lifted his head as far as he could, thankful that it wasn’t strapped down too, and looked to see he was lying on a table eagle-spread, with metal clamps holding his limbs down. Stiles figured the witches probably didn’t want to waste any of their magic on holding him still. He looked down at his bare, bloody chest and noticed that a few more stitches had popped, which was the reason that the previously closed wounds were bleeding again. He felt exposed, lying there with no shirt on, in the middle of an old warehouse, but at least he seemed to be alone. Now he just needed to find a way out of his current situation.

When Stiles looked up at the warehouse again to find any exits, he jumped, startled. The witches from earlier were now standing in a circle around him. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see them there, of course, seeing as they were the ones who had knocked him out and brought him here, but when he had looked up moments before, he was the only one there. Even more, the warehouse was completely empty other than the table, meaning there was nothing there for them to hide behind, they just appeared.

“Well, look who’s finally decided to wake up?” Alice’s voice echoed across the warehouse. “Now we can finally get to the fun stuff.”

Stiles’ heart felt like it would pound out of his chest. Alice must have cast a spell to be able to sense his emotions, or hear his heartbeat, because her next words were, “Feeling a little nervous, are we? It’s understandable, of course. I mean, I would be terrified if I were you.” she smirked.

Stiles swallowed the lump forming in his throat and replied, “You know, I think you’ve taken the wrong guy, unless you actually _were_ looking for a lanky, clumsy, too-skinny teenager, who has no other skills than coming up with a sarcastic comment for every situation.” He said in the most unconcerned voice he could muster.

Alice looked at him, a look of surprise flashing across her face, before she said, “You don’t know yet, do you? Well, I suppose you _are_ quite young. Still, being around werewolves so often, I’m surprised they haven’t told you.”

“Are you always this vague?” Stiles snarled. “Or are you actually going to tell me what you’re talking about?”

“Oh, there’s no chance that I’m telling you now. You not knowing makes this much easier for us.” Alice said, turning to smirk at the other witches in her coven, who all grinned back at her, obviously pleased with Stiles’ cluelessness.

 _Do they ever talk, or do they always just stand there smirking and nodding?_ Stiles thought sarcastically.

“Well,” Alice started again, turning back to Stiles, “Let’s get started, shall we?”

She closed the space between them, now standing right next to the table Stiles was strapped down to, and placed her hand on his forehead.

“Your little pack is standing just outside, undoubtedly trying to form some useless plan to save you, so I think we need to give them incentive to get in here a little faster.” Alice suggested.

Before Stiles could come up with a snarky response, or even process what she had said, Alice’s hand flashed a bright, blazing red, and Stiles' head erupted into pure agony. He felt like an anvil had just been smashed into his skull.

He screamed at the top of his lungs, willing the pain to stop, but Alice didn’t move her hand away. Instead, the white-hot pain felt like it had entered his bloodstream, coursing through his veins, trying to kill him.

It went on for another thirty seconds, which was a long time when your entire head felt like it was going to burst open. Stiles was still screaming, sweat now dripping down his forehead and blood continuing to gush out of his previously re-opened wounds, when suddenly, a loud bang caused Alice’s hand to be ripped away from his forehead.

Stiles was now panting, blood streaming in a trail off the table and onto the floor. He realized that his eyes had been scrunched shut, so he slowly opened them, afraid of what he was going to see.

He had to blink a few times to bring the room into focus; his vision had started blurring from the pain and blood loss, but when the room finally stopped spinning, he almost collapsed in relief. Well, he would have if he had been standing.

The pack was standing at the entrance to the warehouse, looking pissed. Stiles wasn't sure if they were pissed at him for getting taken or at the witches for taking him, but it didn't matter. They found him. They came to save him. They all looked at Stiles in horror, Stiles knew that he must look terrible. Pale, panting, sweating, covered in blood, and there was no way they hadn’t heard him screaming moments before.

All of the werewolves in the pack had their noses scrunched up, and Stiles realized that they were probably smelling his blood, and his pain from the chemo signals he was most definitely sending out.

“Get away from him. _Now._ Before we make you.” Derek growled, sounding so terrifying that Stiles almost cowered in fear, but Alice just chuckled.

“Nice of you to finally show up.” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “We can finally get started. Teach the big, bad _Hale pack_ what happens when you mess with our coven.”

“What did you do to him?” Scott asked. “Did you fucking slash his chest open and stitch it closed? Why the hell would you do that?”

Alice looked vaguely surprised at Scott's words, but she quickly gathered herself and said, “Oh sweetie, I didn’t do that. Maybe you should start paying a little more attention to your fragile human?”

The pack looked at Stiles, eyebrows raised and pure shock on their faces. They all made to move forward, but were once again frozen, surrounded by shimmering, purple air, before they could move more than a step towards him. The same witches from before had stepped forward to stop them.

“Still haven’t learned, have you?” Alice taunted, stalking over to Stiles.

“Back away from him.” Scott said. “Now.”

“Or what?” Alice mused, grinning at his empty threat, knowing that he couldn't do anything while under her coven’s control.

“Or we’ll tear your throats out.” Erica growled.

“Oh, I don’t think that will be happening anytime soon.” She smiled. “Anyways, enough of this small talk, let’s get started.” Alice looked Stiles in the eye. “I think I know _exactly_ what I'm going to do to you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Lydia asked, sounding nervous.

“While Stiles was unconscious, I took, hmm, how should I phrase this? I took a little _stroll_ through his mind. And what I found, well, let’s just say there’s a lot your pack doesn’t know. A lot he doesn’t want any of you to know. Even worse than the little scrapes across his chest. So, let’s all take a trip down memory lane together, share with you some of the things he’s kept from you over the years.” Alice said cryptically.

The pack all glanced at each other, all thinking the same things. _How the hell were they going to see Stiles memories? And what was he keeping from them? What could possibly be even worse than the massive gashes across his chest? Also,_ they all looked closer, _were those scars littering his chest?_ Something clicked in their minds. _Were they why Stiles had never taken his shirt off in front of any of them?_ The pack had assumed that Stiles had just wanted to cover his lanky, too skinny form, using his baggy t-shirts as something to hide behind, but, looking closer, Stiles was ripped. Like, six-pack and massive muscles ripped. How had they not noticed? Or noticed any of the scars that he was covered in?

Stiles’ heart was racing, he knew that witches could do some crazy stuff, but he didn’t know they could show other people his memories. Needless to say, he was terrified. It was the perfect way to get to him. He had a pretty rough life, looking back, and a lot had happened that he was grateful the pack would never know about. Now all of that would change.

Alice picked up on his nerves, she chuckled and whispered in his ear, “Nervous, kid? You should be,” before placing her hand on his forehead once again.

Her hand started to glow as it had done earlier, but this time it glowed a dark blue, illuminating the rest of the room the same color.

The pain hit Stiles like train. Unbearable pain was suddenly pounded through his skull without warning, causing him to start screaming in agony again, even though he had tried to hold it back.

It was the worst pain he had ever experienced, and that was saying something. He had suffered _a lot_ of pain in his life.

His entire body started shaking, almost convulsing from the white-hot pain that shot through his skull and traveled down his body, reaching his feet.

The pack had all turned back in time to see Alice whisper in Stiles' ear, and it was loud enough that even the humans heard what was said. They watched, unable to move, as Stiles screamed in agony when Alice’s hand touched his forehead and started to glow a bright blue.

After a few seconds of being forced to listen to Stiles’ screams, a basketball-sized gold orb floated out of Stiles’ head.

“What the hell?” Jackson muttered.

The glowing orb split into nine smaller orbs, each slightly larger than a golf ball. The orbs started to float through the air, eight of them moving towards the pack and one moving towards Alice, who still had her hand on Stiles’ forehead. The orbs all came to a stop right in front of their faces.

The second everyone had one in front of them, orbs began to move forwards again, floating directly into the unmoving pack member’s heads, and Alice’s.

The last thing the pack heard before everything faded to black were Stiles’ screams echoing throughout the warehouse.


	7. Chapter 7

When the black faded away, the pack looked around, surprised to see that they were no longer in the warehouse. Instead, they were standing in a room in Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. They all looked around, glad that they were at least still together, although Alice was there with them too. Stiles was standing off to the side, looking way too pale. His wide eyes were focused on something in front of all of them, but the pack were too concerned with what was happening, and to make sure everyone was okay, to follow Stiles’ gaze. They could all tell Stiles was still experiencing some level of pain, they could feel it drifting off him in waves, but all the scars and the four slash marks seemed to be missing for the time being.

Jackson opened his mouth to ask where the hell they were, but no words came out. The rest of the pack noticed and did the same, but none of them could speak either.

Alice was grinning at them all, and opened her mouth to speak.

“If I were you, I would just sit back and enjoy the show.” She said, motioning towards the room in front of them.

The pack turned to see a woman lying in a hospital bed, sleeping, and a young boy, looking to be around 10 years old, sitting next to her on a chair, a single tear streaming down his face.

It took the pack only a second to realize that the young boy was Stiles, and the woman in the bed was his mom, who was in a coma, not sleeping.

“It’s okay, mom.” They heard Stiles whisper with a shaky voice. “Dad and I will be fine, don’t worry. I’ll watch him, take care of him, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” He let out a short chuckle, but it ended quickly.

“You’ve suffered for so long, and I, just…” he paused, more tears streaming out of his red, puffy eyes. “I just want you to be okay again. So, you can let go. You can let go, and go up to heaven, and be healthy again.” He whispered in a small, voice, slightly higher pitched than the current Stiles.

The pack stood there for a few more minutes, tears slipping out of their eyes, even Jackson looked like he was holding back tears. Eventually, the heart beat monitor started to slow down, and the young Stiles started sobbing, holding his mother’s hand, telling her it would be okay.

A few doctors rushed in, but there was nothing for them to do. They all knew she was going to die, that it had been coming for a long time.

After a few more moments, she passed, looking peaceful, and the pack all turned to Stiles, the older Stiles.

He was standing there, looking awful, tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes puffy, looking more depressed than they had ever seen him.

The pack wanted to comfort him, but they couldn’t speak, and, as they now just realized, couldn’t move their legs, either to go give him a hug.

Alice had a smug look on her face, obviously pleased that she had upset Stiles so much, made him suffer so much, and Derek was pissed.

The rest of the pack of the pack were too, of course, but none of them more than Derek.

Before any of them could think of a way to get across the room to attack her, make her pay for what she was doing, blackness circled their vision once again, and they appeared in a new memory.


	8. Chapter 8

The next memory they appeared in showed a still young Stiles, he only looked slightly older than he had in the previous memory, sitting in the kitchen next to his dad.

The only things on the table were a empty bottle of whiskey and a glass that was almost empty.

Stiles looked depressed, sitting next to his drunk dad, and the pack knew that it wasn’t long after Stiles’ mom died.

“Dad,” the young Stiles said, “Come on. Why don’t we get you upstairs and go to bed, huh?”

The sheriff ignored this, saying, “Damn it, Stiles. How could this happen to me?” His words were slurred, and his eyes were slipping closed. “I find the woman I love, and she leaves me. Leaves me all by myself. How does she expect me to go through life alone?”

Stiles looked like he was holding back tears now, and the pack felt awful for him.

“Dad, you have me. We can get through this together, the two of us.” He said in a small voice.

“You’re just a kid, Stiles. You wouldn’t understand.” John replied, his voice saddened.

Stiles looked upset, and a little angry at this, but all he said was, “You need to sleep, Dad. Come on let’s get you upstairs, now.”

He helped his dad up from his chair, and helped him up the stairs, as he was wobbly and unstable on his feet.

The pack felt horrible Stiles, they had al thought that Stiles’ mom had left them, they didn’t know she had died, that it had been awful for Stiles, who was left motherless, and forced to take care of his dad. Except for Scott, of course, who had seen how awful it was for him, how much responsibility had rested on Stiles’ shoulders, having to do all the laundry, wash the dishes, take care of his dad, and more.

They all watched as Stiles dropped his dad off into his bed, then walked down the stairs and out the front door.

Suddenly, Scott knew what was going to happen. Shit. He had forgotten about this. This awful, awful day. How could he have forgotten?

Stiles had set off on a walk, it was obvious he wasn’t running away, just going on a nighttime stroll, most likely to clear his head.

After a few minutes, a giant black van pulled up next to a 10 or 11-year-old Stiles.

Before anyone could process what was about to happen, before Stiles had even had time to turn around, a man had jumped out of the car, grabbed Stiles, pulled him into the van, and drove away.

The scene shifted. They were in a basement; the only light was shining through a small window close to the ceiling. The lack of light caused it to be almost pitch black. There was a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, but it wasn’t on.

The pack all looked to Stiles, who looked pale and terrified.

They all jumped in shock when suddenly the door at the top at the stairs burst open and someone was shoved over, going flying down the stairs.

When they finally landed at the bottom, all of the pack’s faces dropped into expressions of pure terror.

A bloody, bruised, dirty, and too pale Stiles was laying on the floor, groaning.

He was shirtless, bruises covering his torso, face and arms, blood dripping from his mouth to his chin, hundreds of shallow cuts across his arms and a few on his cheek.

“Fuck you.” He said, his words gargled because of the blood filling his mouth.

They all looked to the man at the top of the stairs, who looked pissed. He looked like he was about to coming storming down the stairs, probably to beat Stiles up even more, when a loud banging noise came from somewhere upstairs, shouts ringing down.

“Police! Put your hands up!”

The man at the top of the stairs, Stiles’ kidnapper, swore.

“Shit.” He muttered. “How the hell did they find me? Did you tell them, you little fucker?” He said, looking furiously at Stiles.

Before Stiles could respond, the police were there, handcuffing the man.

The werewolves all heard the young Stiles’ sigh of relief.

“Stiles!” They heard. “Oh, thank god, Stiles, i found you! I found you, I found you, I found you. Oh, god, I thought I’d never see you again.” Stiles’ dad was now sitting next to Stiles, pure relief on his face. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he said, “It’s been two weeks. Two weeks without you, not knowing where you were, if you were even still alive. I can’t believe you’re alive, injured, but alive.” A look of sudden shock came across his face. He must have been too happy to see his son earlier that he hadn't noticed his injuries. “Oh god, are you in pain, Stiles? We need to get you to the hospital.”

“M’ fine” they heard Stiles mutter, just before passing out.

Just as everything started to turn black, the pack all looked at each other with wide, horrified eyes. How had none if them know that Stiles was kidnapped as a child? How awful and sad his childhood had been? They had all assumed, based on Stiles’ personality, that he had a great childhood, other than his mom leaving. But now they knew the truth, and they all came to a sudden realization.

They didn’t know anything about Stiles.


	9. Chapter 9

Still recovering from the shock of the last memory, the pack had to process it for a minute before they took in their new surroundings. When they finally looked up, they were sitting in a classroom at the high school.

Everyone in the pack except for Derek instantly recognized this as Mr. Harris’ classroom, and instantly knew this wasn’t going to be good. Harris hated Stiles, almost as much as Harris hated him.

The room was empty, and the pack stood there for a moment before the door swing open and Mr. Harris strode in, dragging Stiles by his shirt collar.

“Welcome to detention, Stilinski.” He said with a satisfied smirk in his face. “Take a seat. Believe me, you’re going to be here for a while.”

“Is there a reason that I’m here that you’d like to share with me, or did you just want to spend more time with your favorite student?” Stiles retorted.

“You were being disrupting in the hallway.” Harris stated.

“I was walking to class! Along with everyone else in the school!” Stiles half-shouted, incredulous.  
“You were being too loud.”

“I was just talking to Scott! And, actually I was making an effort to talk quietly, seeing as it wasn’t something I wanted to share with the entire school, so there’s no way that you heard me!” Stiles said, now furious.

“Well, if you don’t want to get detention, maybe you should talk to your father, the sheriff, about who he decides to interrogate.” Harris snarled.

“I’m here because you’re upset with my dad?” Stiles asked. “I’m pretty sure this is illegal.”

“Shut up and sit down Stilinski. Or I’ll keep you here until nine instead of eight.” Harris replied obnoxiously.

The pack watched as Stiles looked up, and they followed his gaze. It was only two-thirty. The school rule was that all detentions lasted an hour, but Stiles was being kept there for six and a half!

The pack were pissed, especially the ones who went to school with him. They should have noticed how horribly Stiles was treated by Harris.

Before they could think about it anymore, they faded into the next memory.

Stiles was walking from his jeep up his front lawn towards his house.

He was soaking wet, shuffling his feet slowly, looking exhausted. Almost as if he was going to pass out before he even made it to the front door.

He made it to his doorway, stumbling through, and practically crawled up the stairs.

What the hell had happened to him? The pack wondered.

Suddenly it dawned on them. Derek had told them about it, but they had never really thought anything of it.

This was the night that Stiles had held Derek above water for two hours to protect him from the kanima, which they now knew was Jackson.

Now that they thought about it, it was surprising that Stiles was even able to make it across his front lawn. He had not only tread water to hold himself up for two hours, but he had been supporting another person. A large person, much larger than him.

They watched as Stiles groaned in pain, his leg muscles sore, before collapsing onto him bed, immediately passing out.

They all turned to look at the current Stiles, whose face was heated in embarrassment. He hadn’t wanted them to think he was weak, but what he didn’t know was that they were all impressed with what he had done to keep Derek alive and well.

Derek was standing there frozen, pissed at himself. he should have followed Stiles home, made sure he was okay, how could he not have noticed how awful Stiles had looked? The pack was supposed to protect him, but they were doing an awful job at it. Derek especially, who had been right there with Stiles, he could have heard his heartbeat, which was beating much too fast, or sensed his emotions, which would have shown him how exhausted and upset Stiles’ was. Instead, he had just sent Stiles’ on his way, not saying thank you, not wanting to show that he was starting to care for him.

In fact, he had even growled at him. As a thank-you-for-saving-my-life, he fucking growled. What the hell was wrong with him?

A few moments later, the scene began to shift, and the pack waited patiently to see what memory of Stiles’ that he didn’t want them to see would play next.


	10. Chapter 10

The next memory showed Stiles walking out of the school at the end of the day, heading towards the pack in the parking lot, who had yet to notice him, which was surprising, seeing as he was pretty close to them.

“Stiles!” a girl’s voice called from behind him.

Stiles turned around. “Oh, hey. It’s Samantha, right?”

A gorgeous girl with long blonde hair and dimples smiled at him. “Yeah, it is, um, I was just wondering if maybe, um, maybe you’d like to go out some time? With me? We could go get some coffee or something?”

“Oh, I’m really sorry Samantha, you seem really nice, but I’m not actually looking to date anyone right now, I’m honestly really sorry.” Stiles said apologetically.

“Oh. Okay, yeah, that’s fine. I’ll see you around school, then?” Samantha replied, sounding upset.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around.” Stiles replied before waving goodbye and walking a few steps over to the pack, all of whom had still failed to notice him.

The pack stood there, staring at the current Stiles, who’s ears were bright pink.

How the hell had they not noticed him? And more importantly, why had Stiles turned Samantha Wright down, the hottest girl in their grade. And since when were hot girls interested in skinny, lanky Stiles? Wait. Stiles wasn’t skinny and lanky. They had seen him earlier, with a six pack and powerful muscles.

They really didn’t know him at all.

Derek was jealous, hoping that none of the pack could sense it. why should he be jealous? It wasn’t like he was dating Stiles, or even asked him out. He had no right to want to shove Samantha away from him and place his lips against Stiles’…

No. He couldn’t think like this. He needed to stop.

Luckily, before his imagination could wander any further, the scene shifted.

They were standing on the lacrosse field, the night that everyone had thought that Jackson had died but he was really just shifting into an Alpha kanima.

Stiles was standing on the lacrosse field, a look of pure joy on his face as he had just won the game.

The pack all looked at the present-day Stiles questioningly, but he refused to meet any of their gazes, his face completely flushed.

This was the night that Stiles had gotten beaten up by the other team after he mouthed off at them.

None of the pack wanted to see this, and they knew Stiles was probably avoiding their eyes out of humiliation.

They watched as the lights went out on the field, turning back on a minute later, several screams echoing around the field as everyone rushed to Jackson. The pack, who had all turned their attention to Jackson’s lifeless body sprawled across the field, turned back around when they felt themselves move involuntarily.

When they all turned around to look at what they were being forced to follow, they were faced with an unconscious Stiles being dragged away by another lacrosse player.

Wait. No. That wasn’t a lacrosse player. Was that…Gerard?

They watched in horror as Gerard dragged Stiles’ body over to his car, tossed him into the trunk, and sped away.

Stiles had lied to them. He had never been beat up by the opposing team, he had been kidnapped by Gerard. How had none of them known? How had not a single person there not have seen Stiles getting dragged off the field?

Derek turned his attention to the rest of the pack as the car drove out of sight, wanting to see their reactions to this shocking information.

As he scanned their faces, his eyes stopped over Erica and Boyd, who were ghostly pale, looking as if they knew exactly what was about to happen.

Before Derek could wonder what that could mean, darkness enveloped them once again.

The next scene they were met with was of Erica and Boyd, arms tied up by electrocuted wires, gagged, looking terrified and weak.

The pack looked around, and were shocked to see where they were.

They were standing in the Argent’s basement.


	11. Chapter 11

The pack stood there, wondering how they had never known that Stiles was kidnapped.

They had all seen him that night in the old warehouse, when Stiles drove Lydia over to save Jackson. None of the pack had noticed anything wrong with him at the time, so nothing too bad could have happened, right. Yeah. Stiles would be fine. Gerard would probably just interrogate him for a little bit and let him go.

A door at the top of the stairs was kicked open, and Stiles went tumbling down the stairs, shoved by Gerard.

When Stiles hit the ground, he chuckled. He actually chuckled. How could he be laughing in this situation?

“You really think you can throw me down some stairs to scare me into answering some questions, old man?” Stiles snorted.

Gerard’s face twisted into an evil smirk.

“Oh, no, dear Stiles, you’re not here to answer any questions.” He replied calmly. “I wondered how the great Scott McCall would react to finding his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp?”

The pack’s mouths dropped open in horror, but they were quickly shut. Stiles would be fine. They would be seeing him in the warehouse later, and he was fine then, so nothing too bad would happen.

“You really think you can beat me up, grandpa?” Stiles taunted. “I could take you down in a second.”

Gerard just smiled at him.

“Maybe, but can you take two guards down?”

Before Stiles could react, two bulky men burst into the room and grabbed Stiles arms, pinning them behind his back. Stiles struggled against them, but stopped when Gerard said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Not when we have two of your little friends over there.”

Stiles whipped his head around, and looked horrified to see Erica and Boyd standing there, hands strung up above their heads.

Gerard chuckled at the look on Stiles’s face. “Now then, why don’t we play a little game. You and I are going to have a little fun. If you ever want me to stop, just ask.”

“I’m not an idiot, you bastard. What’s the catch?” Stiles growled.

“The second you ask me to stop, I’ll move on to your little friends over there, and you can watch.” Gerard said. Stiles glared at him. “Now that we’ve established the rules, why don’t we begin?”

The guards dragged a no longer struggling Stiles across the room, making sure he, Erica, and Boyd were all in each other’s line of sight.

Finally seeming to process what was about to happen, Erica cried out, “Let him go! Don’t touch him! Stiles, tell him to stop! Get out of here!”

Stiles avoided her eyes, instead glaring at the ground. “I can’t let you guys get hurt.” He whispered.

Gerard ignored this, and ordered to two guards to tie Stiles’ hands above his head.

Stiles’ hands were tied up with ropes rather than electrocuted wires, seeing as he was human and could die from a constant stream of electricity coursing through his body, and Gerard didn’t seem to want to kill him just yet.

Once Stiles was tied up, Gerard strode over to him and raised his fist. He swung forward, punching his square in the nose.

The pack, and the Erica and Boyd from the past, all cringed when Gerard’s fist connected solidly to Stiles’ face. A few drops of blood dripped out of Stiles nose at the sudden impact.

Stiles opened his mouth, most likely to make a sarcastic comment, but before he could get anything out, Gerard was punching him again. And again. Blow after blow rained down on Stiles, covering his face and body in bruises, his lip split, blood dripping from his nose and mouth, but he never asked for it to stop.

Not once did he cry out in pain or ask Gerard to stop. He just stood there, arms above his head, letting Gerard hit him.

After ten minutes of this, by now most of the pack had tears streaming down their faces, the others barely holding their own tears back.

When Gerard finally stopped, Stiles was panting, struggling to suck in shaky breaths.

“Cut his shirt off, and attach him to the machine.” Gerard ordered the guards. “Maybe then he’ll beg me to stop.”

Stiles just glared at him and said in between pants, “Bring it on, asshole. You’re never going to get me to break.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that.” Gerard replied, as the guards grabbed some scissors and cut his shirt off.

“Shit, you know, that was my favorite shirt.” Stiles said jokingly.

Gerard smirked. “Still got some of that fire in you, huh? Well, we won’t have to deal with that anymore in a few minutes.” He said while the guards taped some wires to Stiles’ chest.

“We’ll start out easy, shall we?” Gerard taunted, turning a knob.

The pack watched in horror as electricity ran through the wires, coursing into Stiles’ body. 

At first, Stiles was whimpering, letting out an occasional cry of pain, but by the time Gerard had tuned the dial up to seven, Stiles was screaming in agony. After twenty minutes of this, with Gerard turning the dial to zero every few minutes to give him thirty second breaks, he finally turned it off for good.

“Ready to cave yet, Stiles?”

“What…do…you…think…asshole” Stiles croaked between breaths, his voice almost gone from all the screaming.

Gerard smirked. “You’ve been warned. Believe me, it’s only going to get worse from here.”

At these words, he strode across the room and grabbed something off the table.

The pack watched as Gerard turned back to Stiles with a whip in his hands saying, “Still sure that you don’t want it to stop? All you have to do is say the word and the suffering will end, Stiles.”

Stiles just glared at him, and the next twenty minutes were spent watching Stiles scream as the whip slapped across his back, no breaks in between, just constant agony.

When Gerard got tired ten minutes in, he passed the whip off to the guard, who was even more powerful.

When Gerard finally called for the guard to stop, Stiles was shaking, his wrists dripping blood from supporting his body for so long from the ropes, and his back a bloody mess.

Gerard seemed to be bored of his little game, so he said, “Get him down. If he’s not going to break, I think it’s time we drop him off for his friends to see, to send them a little message.”

The guard that had just been whipping Stiles pulled out a knife and slashed the ropes Stiles was dangling from. The second the ropes were cut, Stiles dropped to the ground hard, unable to support himself.

The guards each grabbed one of Stiles hands and started dragging him out of the basement.

At the last second, Stiles swung his foot out, smashing it against the machine that was sending the electricity into Erica and Boyd, which went tumbling to the ground.

The machine shattered on the floor, broken.

Gerard growled and whipped around to Stiles and punched him in the face hard before saying, “You little shit. Get him out of here, drop him off outside Scott McCall’s house.”

Despite being tortured and punched in the face, Stiles had a weak smile on his face.

Erica and Boyd were barely conscious now, but soon enough they would heal and recover enough to get out of here. If anything good had come out of tonight, it was that he had probably just saved their lives, Stiles wasn’t sure how much more electricity they could take.

Stiles was roughly dragged up the stairs, body slamming painfully against each step, and thrown in the back of the trunk.

The car sped away from the Argent house, parking outside of Scott’s house a few minutes later. The guards pulled Stiles out of the and slammed him onto the hard pavement, before driving away again.

Stiles laid there for a minute before starting to get up. Whimpering and groaning in pain, he shifted around until he was finally able to make it onto his own two feet.


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles stumbled home, luckily his house was only a few minutes’ walk from Scott’s, although it felt like eternity for a hurting Stiles, and the pack, who had to watch.

Stiles finally reached his house, and stumbled up the stairs, collapsing onto the floor in his bedroom doorway, to weak now to make it to his bed. Luckily, his dad wasn’t home, so Stiles didn’t have to worry about his dad seeing him like this.

After lying there for fifteen minutes, Stiles slowly pulling his phone out of his pocket, surprised that Gerard hadn’t found it and taken it, his face contorted in pain.

When he finally lifted his phone up to check it, he was faced with tons of annoyed messages from Scott, asking where he was, why he wasn’t responding, and saying that he needed Stiles’ help.

The texts said that the only way for Jackson to live (wait, Stiles thought, Jackson is alive?) was for Stiles to bring Lydia to an old warehouse at the edge of town, which was where he and Derek had Jackson.

Stiles mumbled, “Shit,” before using the doorway to pull himself onto his feet. Using the walls for support, he made his way over to his bathroom to clean himself up and change into pants that weren’t coated in blood and put a shirt on.

The pack all gasped when Stiles flicked the bathroom light on, this was the first time they had seen Stiles in bright light since Gerard had kidnapped him at the game. The basement had been dark, it was nighttime when he has stumbled home, and he had never turned on his bedroom light.

Now, they saw everything that had happened to him.

His ribs were purple and blue, most likely broken, his back was completely red and dripping blood from all the gashes from the whip, his wrists were bleeding still, and his chest was covered in burn marks where the wires had touched his skin while he was electrocuted. His face and arms were also coated in bruises from when Gerard had beat him up, his bottom lip was split, and trails of blood ran from his mouth down to his chest.

Stiles grabbed a washcloth and started to wipe the blood from his face, his wrists, his back. After five minutes, he seemed to give up, not being able to get it all off his wrists and back, as they were still bleeding.

Stiles had been leaning against the counter, and swayed slightly when he stood up to go to his closet. He had already lost a lot of blood, he was looking far too pale, and probably had a concussion from getting knocked out and thrown down the stairs.

Stiles stumbled over to his closet, pulling out a baggy black long sleeve shirt, a red hoodie, and a pair of loose dark blue jeans.

It took him a good five minutes to change, whimpering a few times when he jostled his injuries, before he grabbed his keys off his dresser and stumbled outside to his jeep.

The pack watched in awe as Stiles picked up Lydia from her house and spent the car ride to the warehouse explaining the situation, and everything that he knew about the supernatural.

Lydia was too shocked to notice that anything was wrong with Stiles, but she accepted everything he said without question.

They watched as Stiles drove his jeep through the wall of the warehouse, Lydia hopping out and rushing to save Jackson.

Stiles practically fell out of his jeep and stumbled over behind Scott. It was only after everything was over, Jackson was saved and Gerard was gone, that Scott and Derek turned to Stiles and asked what had happened to him, why he hadn’t answered their texts right away, why his face was bruised.

The pack watched in horror and embarrassment as Stiles told them that he had made a few nasty comments to the opposing team, that they had beaten him up, and Derek and Scott had just accepted that. How had they not noticed how pale he was? How bad the bruises were, how much pain he looked like he was in? How hadn’t they, as werewolves, smelt his pain, his fear, his embarrassment, his blood? Shouldn’t they have heard his heartbeat, noticed that he was lying to them?

Looking back, they should have known. They should have noticed how much pain he was in, how much he had suffered.

The memory faded, and the pack found themselves in the high school, the day after the incident.

Stiles limped into the school, carrying his backpack with his hands so as not to disturb the wounds on his back. He was still wearing the same clothes as the night before, and it was obvious he hadn’t showered. The pack guessed that he had collapsed into bed and gone straight to sleep the night before. He was still ghostly pale, his entire body was trembling and he looked completely awful.

They watched in shock and embarrassment as Stiles joined their group at the front of the school and they all walked to class together. None of them so much as looked at him. They were all too busy discussing Jackson and the events from the night before to notice how horrible Stiles had looked.

None of them noticed when Stiles spent all of first block, which they all had together, pulling out tissues and coughing up blood, or when Coach Finstock asked Stiles if he was okay, Stiles insisted that he was fine.

None of them had even noticed when Stiles had practically sprinted from the bathroom to go throw up, even though he hadn’t eaten anything.

Even when Stiles was stopped during the hallways several times by people he barely knew or teachers asking if he was okay, Stiles continuing to insist that he was, the pack hadn’t noticed.

They were awful friends. Absolutely awful. The worst friends anyone could have. How hadn’t they, the werewolves with supernatural senses, not noticed how terrible Stiles had looked. Everyone else in the entire school had seemed to notice except for them. They hadn’t even noticed all the events that day that made it even more glaringly obvious that Stiles was hurt.


	13. Chapter 13

The pack was in complete and utter shock when Danny walked up to their friend group without any of the noticing and approached Stiles, who’s face had turned slightly green, who was standing with the pack who had yet to pay any kind of attention to him, quieter than he had ever been before.

Danny dragged Stiles away from the group without any of the pack noticing that either of them had even been there, bringing him inside of the nearest empty classroom.

“Stiles, you look awful, are you okay? Everyone in the entire school is talking about you, everyone seems to think you’re going to drop dead any second. I even heard a few teachers talking about you. 

Everyone’s really worried.” Danny informed Stiles.

“Don’t worry, m’ fine.” Stiles mumbled, leaning heavily against the wall.

“You don’t look it.” Danny replied. “Like, at all.”

Stiles let out a shaky breath, which actually looked painful, and muttered, “It’s n’thing.”

“Listen, Stiles, I’m going to drive you to the hospital right now, okay?” Danny said, looking even more worried at the fact that Stiles could barely get out more than two words, when he was normally so talkative and full of life.

“No hospital.” Stiles murmured, trying to say it forcefully but failing.

“Stiles-” Danny started.

“No.” Stiles cut him off before he could try to convince him. “No. Hospital.”

“Fine.” Danny sighed. “But I am bringing you back to my house, I’ll try to patch you up as best I can there.”

“How’d you…” Stiles trailed off, wondering how Danny knew he was injured, he could have just been really ill.

“You’re bleeding through your shirt, Stiles. Plus, you’ve got some blood on your jeans that looks like it’s dripped off your back, your face is completely bruised, and your wrists are bleeding.” Danny said, almost sounding angry that Stiles had come to school like this. “Now, come on, we’re going to my house.”

“Fine.” Stiles mumbled, annoyed that he had caved so easily, but was too tired and in too much pain to argue back.

The blackness that meant they were fading into another memory started to reappear, and the next time the pack looked around, they were in what must be Danny’s bedroom.

“Holy shit, Stiles. What the hell happened to you?!” Danny said as Stiles took his shirt off and he saw the full extent of his injuries.

“Tripped.” Stiles mumbled, in too much pain to think of a better excuse. “M’ clumsy.” He added, trying to smile.

Danny sighed. “I’ll get the real answer out of you later, right now, I’m going to do the best I can to fix you up. Lucky for you, my grandma used to be a nurse, and she’s taught me a few things over the years.”

Danny examined Stiles’ injuries before binding his broken ribs, cleaning up the blood, stitching up the worst of the lacerations across his back, bandaging his wrists, applying some burn cream to where Stiles was electrocuted, and giving him some pain killers

After about an hour, Danny had finished, and Stiles was barely keeping his eyes open.

“Why don’t you sleep here tonight, Stiles? I’m assuming your dad doesn’t know about this, so I can can text him from your phone, tell him you’re staying at Scott’s?”

Stiles nodded gratefully, before promptly falling asleep.

The pack watched a worried looking Danny pull out Stiles’ phone to start typing.

The scene shifted, and the next memory showed Stiles waking up the morning after in Danny’s bed.


	14. Chapter 14

Stiles woke up slowly, blinking his eyes several times to adjust the the light shining through the window, groaning. He felt better than the previous night, but his entire body still ached.

“Hey. You’re up. How are you feeling?” Danny’s voice said from across the room.

Stiles whipped around in shock, taking a moment to remember where he was. He immediately regretted this action, feeling it send a sharp, shooting pain through his body, as his ribs began to ache and he felt the pull of the stitches in his back.

He winced slightly and mumbled groggily, “I’ll b’ fine.”

Danny groaned. “No, you won’t, Stiles. We really need to get you to the hospital, make sure you don’t have a concussion, or internal bleeding.”

“I do have a concussion, I don’t need a doctor to tell me that.” Stiles replied, sitting up slowly. “Wait,” he said suddenly. “What time is it? We need to get to school.”

“It’s ten,” Danny replied, “and, no, we don’t. There’s no way I’m letting you go back to school like this. I don’t even know how you were able to yesterday, to be honest.”

“We have to go.” Stiles said, now much more awake. “They’ll call my dad, tell him I’m skipping, and then he’ll find out everything. We have to go.”

Stiles started to get up, but Danny shoved him back down.

“Everyone saw me walk you out of the school yesterday, Stiles. Believe me, no one is going to call to ask about why you aren’t there. Although, your friends don’t know where you are. Do you want me to text them, tell them you’re at my place?”

“No.” Stiles said quickly. “They won’t notice I’m gone, and I don’t need to draw any attention to the fact.”

“Won’t they be worried about you? I mean, you looked like death yesterday at school.” Danny replied.

Stiles looked at the ground in response, and Danny realized what this meant.

“What the hell, Stiles? They don’t know that you’re hurt? How could they not? The entire fucking school knows!” He said, sounding pissed on Stiles’ behalf.

“They’re busy. They’ve got much more important things going on than whether or not I’m injured again.” Stiles said in a small voice, still looking at the ground.

The pack all felt even more guilty at these words, if that was even possible. Stiles should never have thought that his well-being wasn’t important to them, although they apparently hadn’t given him any reason to think otherwise.

“I think that you should be their top priority, Stiles! You were practically bleeding out at school yesterday!” Danny half-shouted, angry at the pack. “They’re your fucking pack! They’re supposed to protect you, not let you get hurt this fucking badly!”

At these words, Stiles eyes flew up to look at Danny.

“What do you just say?” Stiles said in disbelief. “Did you just say pack?”

Danny sighed. “Listen, Stiles, this wasn’t how I wanted to tell you, tell any of you, but I know about the supernatural, I know that Scott, Jackson, Derek, Erica, and Boyd are all werewolves, I know that Lydia’s a banshee, and Allison’s a hunter. I know that you’re still human, and that means that the pack is supposed to protect you, watch out for you, not let you get this fucking hurt and not even notice.” He ended furiously.

Stiles stared at him in shock. “H-how…” he trailed off.

“My grandma is a witch. My mom and dad left when I was young, so I don’t know about them, but, yeah, I’m pretty sure I have magical capabilities too, I just haven’t grown into them yet, but my grandma says that I have a certain ‘aura’ about me.”

“Wow.” Stiles said in shock.

“Yeah. So, anyways, now that you know about her magic, why don’t I bring you downstairs to my grandma, so she can check you out, make sure you’ll be okay?”

“Erm…yeah sure. Let’s go do that.” Stiles agreed, sighing. “But, can you um, help me up? I don’t think I can stand up by myself right now without falling over.” His face turned bright red.

“Of course, Stiles.” He said, moving over and helping him up. They moved downstairs, Danny supporting almost all of Stiles weight.

Danny’s grandma was extremely nice, looking over Stiles’ injuries, telling him he would be fine, that he just needed a few days’ bed rest to sleep and heal.

Luckily, it was Friday, so he had the weekend to do this.

“You really should wait longer to back.” Danny’s grandmother said when Stiles pointed this out.

“I’ll be fine, honestly, I’ve gone to school plenty of times looking worse than this.”

The pack was shocked at these words, how little attention did they pay to Stiles?

At this, Stiles began to stand up, with Danny’s help, and they went back upstairs, chatting for a little but about magic, before Stiles finally fell back asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

The long memory faded, and the next few were shown in short flashes, little moments with Danny that Stiles apparently didn’t want the pack to know about.

Stiles and Danny doing homework together after school, hanging out during lacrosse practice when Scott, Jackson, and Isaac didn’t pay any attention to him, even going out on the weekends to practice sone more and grabbing coffee afterwards before going back to Danny’s to spend the day together.

At Danny’s they went outside where Danny began to practice using his magic, now able to do several simple spells, like making a leaf float or forming a tiny ball of light in his hands.

The pack was shocked, they should have known that Danny had magic, the werewolves should have smelt it on him. Looking at these memories, they could see why Stiles seemed to prefer to spend time with Danny. They were awful friends.

The next memory showed Stiles and Danny walking into an empty locker room after going over on a Sunday to practice.

They chatted for a few minutes, Stiles cracking some terrible jokes, Danny laughing, completely hysterical at them.

After a few minutes, the conversation lulled, and Danny and Stiles found themselves standing half-naked next to each other in front of the showers. They looked at each other for a moment, and suddenly, without warning, Danny surged forwards and kissed Stiles.

Stiles stood there in shock for a moment, before kissing back eagerly, grabbing Danny’s face in his hands, eventually slipping his tongue into Danny’s mouth.

The pack watched uncomfortably, feeling like they were intruding on something private, but also in awe, they hadn’t realized that Stiles had kissed anyone before, but he looked to be really good at it. Like, really good.

The pack all looked at present-day Stiles as discreetly as possible, his face was bright red and they could sense him embarrassment.

Across the room, Derek’s jealousy was wafting off him in waves, and the wolves all scrunched up their noses at the smell of it.

After a few minutes, Danny started to push Stiles backwards, shoving him underneath the running water, his back pressed against the shower.

Danny’s hands started sliding down Stiles’ back, tugging down on his boxers, and Stiles’ embarrassment increased, stinking up the room.

Luckily, the scene ended before it could go any further, fading into a memory at the high school, on the lacrosse field.

Stiles was walking back in by himself after practice, he had stayed after a few extra minutes to try out a move, he had told Danny to go ahead into the locker room without him.

The pack turned to Stiles, curious about what was going to happen. How bad could it have been if it happened right outside the school. But, then again, it’s a memory that Stiles doesn’t want the pack to see.

The second they saw Stiles face, they knew it was going to be bad.

His eyes were bulging, he couldn’t seem to stand still, his face was pale still, and he was staring at the ground.

Stiles strode across the field, and just as he was passing the net, a figure jogged over to him from the school.

A boy with brown hair, looking sweaty from practice, was standing in front of Stiles, looking slightly anxious.

“Hey, Stiles.” The boy said.

Stiles looked up at him and replied with a polite smile, “Hey, it’s Jack, right?”

“Yeah, so anyways, I wanted to know if you wanted to go out some time. I figured we could go the movies, or maybe get some coffee.” Jack replied, seeming more confident now that Stiles knew his name.

Stiles shifted uncomfortably. “I’m really sorry, Jack, but I’m not looking to date anyone right now.”

Jack’s expression changed from slightly anxious to pissed.

“You don’t like me, is that why? You think I’m ugly, or annoying?”

The pack was shocked by the change of events, and it was obvious that Stiles was too. Jack was one of the hottest guys in the school, it was obvious that there was something wrong with him.

“No!” Stiles said quickly. “That’s not it at all!” I’m just not ready to date yet.”

Jack obviously didn’t believe him, he still looked furious.

In less than a second, his hands reached up, grabbed Stiles’ head, and smashed it into the metal bars of the goal. He smashed Stiles’ head three more times before letting go. Stiles’ body instantly dropped to the ground like a bag of rocks, blood oozing from where his head had connected.

“Shit.” Stiles muttered from the ground, looking dizzy and confused, his face scrunched up from the pounding in his head.

Jack reached down and pulled Stiles up by his shirt, then shoved Stiles’ back against the goal post.

He surged forwards, pushing his mouth against Stiles’, forcing his tongue into Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles tried to fight back, but he wouldn’t have even been able to stay upright if Jack hadn’t been holding him up. Plus, the dude was pure muscle, and much taller than Stiles.

After a minute of this, Jack began to stick his hands under Stiles shirt, touching Stiles abs.

He started to move his hands along the rim of Stiles’ pants, as if to pull them down, but froze when a shout came from behind him.

“Get the fuck off him, you dick!” Danny’s voice rang across the field, and Jack let go of Stiles, who was making a pitiful attempt at keeping himself upright by clutching onto the goal post behind him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get away from him!”

Jack sprinted away before Danny could come over and punch him, and Stiles started to drop to the ground. Danny caught him just in time, supporting his weight.

The memory ended with Danny helping a concussed and bleeding Stiles over to his car, and driving him home.


	16. Chapter 16

The next scene opened up to show Stiles standing between a nervous looking girl and two guys who looked angry.

“Stay out of this, Stiles.” One of the guys said, the pack recognized him as Nathan, the other as Mark.

“No.” Stiles growled. “She said she doesn’t want to give you her homework, now leave her alone.”

“This has nothing to do with you. Now back off, Lacey would be perfectly happy to give me her homework, right Lacey? Just like she’s done all year.”

Lacey blushed and looked at the ground.

“She said no, Nathan. Be a man and take it.” Stiles taunted.

“Fine. I’ll leave her alone, but only if you go on a date with me.” Nathan offered.

“I don’t generally do things that make me want to vomit, so that’s going to be a no.” Stiles spat.

Nathan opened his mouth, about to spit back an insult, but Stiles started talking again before he could get anything out.

“Back off, unless you want me to go tell Coach that you’ve cheated on every Economics exam we’ve taken this year. We both know Coach doesn’t allow cheaters on his lacrosse team.” He threatened.

Ethan glared at him for a moment before turning around and walking away.

Stiles turned around to face Lacey and said apologetically, “I’m really sorry about him. He’s an asshole.”

“Are you seriously apologizing for helping me? Because you shouldn’t. That was incredible, thank you so much.” She said, smiling at him. “He’s been bullying me into giving him my Physics homework all year, so thanks for that.”

“It was no problem, really.” Stiles grinned. “Oh, I’m Stiles, by the way. You’re Lacey, right?” He said holding out his hand.

Lacey chuckled, “Yeah, I am. And I know who you are, Stiles. Everyone does. You’re Stiles Stilinski, like the hottest, smartest, sweetest guy in school.”

Stiles face turned bright red. “Oh, um, thanks for, um saying that, but it’s really not true.”

Lacey shook her head. “Whatever you say,” she said with a smile on her face, before suddenly turning serious. “Listen, um, everyone’s told me that you’ve turned, like, half the school down, that you don’t want to date, but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to get coffee with me sometime?”

Stiles looked up from the ground, right into Lacey’s eyes. “Lacey, I’m really sorry, but-”

“-You’re not ready to date.” She cut him off. “Yeah, I figured, but I still wanted to try, see if maybe…” Her voice trailed off.

“Yeah, Lacey, I really am sorry, you seem great, I’m just not looking to be with anyone right now.” he explained.

Weren’t he and Danny together? Did he not want people to know, or was it a ‘friends with benefits’ situation? The pack wondered, wishing they could ask Stiles about it right away, but he wouldn’t be able to hear them. Alice’s stupid spell prevented this.

Speaking of Alice, where was she? Derek, Scott, Lydia, and Allison all noticed she hadn’t commented, in a while, just now noticing because they were too wrapped up in Stiles’ memories.

They turned around, and Alice was standing behind them with a smug look on her face.

“Had enough yet?” Alice taunted. Stiles and the rest of the pack whipped around to glare at her, unable to respond. “How about just a few more, then we head back, alright?” she smirked.

The scene with Lacey faded, and the pack turned back around, finding themselves in an old warehouse, much larger than the one they had saved Jackson in.

The pack remembered this night, there was another pack trying to take over Beacon Hills, who had met the Hale pack here, wanting to fight to gain control of the territory.

The pack had seven werewolves, a hellhound, and two humans, armed with guns loaded with wolfsbane bullets. The Hale pack was in over their heads that night, outnumbered and not quite as powerful.

Somehow, though the Hale pack came out on top. The pack wondered what had happened that night that Stiles hadn’t wanted them to see. The pack had felt great that night, strong, powerful, unbeatable. Afterwards, they had all gone back to Derek’s to relax, celebrate, and watch a movie. Everyone had gone, everyone except for…Stiles. Of course. But why wasn’t he with them? Where could he have gone?

The pack all thought back to that night. They had been battling the wolves, they had already knocked out five of them, they were more focused on fighting the hellhound. Gunshots were ringing through the air, the bodies of the unconscious wolves scattered across the ground, dust and smoke swirling through the air, shouts and growls echoing around. It was absolute chaos.

They remembered Stiles running off just before they had taken the hellhound down. They were pissed that he was leaving at the time, Jackson picking on him for having to be home before bedtime, but now they realized that it was probably something much worse.

The pack found themselves faced with the scene they had just thought back to, only now they were focusing on Stiles rather than the other pack.

They watched in shock as Stiles sprinted forwards with his baseball bat raised, headed straight for the armed and dangerous men standing across the warehouse.

They fired off a few shots, but Stiles was able to dodge all of them, continuing to close the distance between them. When he finally got close enough, he swung the bat forwards, slamming it into one of the men’s heads.

Just as the bat collided with the man’s skull, knocking him to the ground unconscious, the other man fired off a shot.

The pack didn’t see where it went, they didn’t see it fly past Stiles, but they did see Stiles immediately whip around and knock the second man out.

The pack was in awe, they didn’t know that Stiles had taken out two armed men by himself. Just as they were beginning to wonder why Stiles wanted to hide this memory, Stiles looked down at his side.

“Shit.” He mumbled.

The pack was in shock. Stiles had been shot. They were so preoccupied, that they hadn’t thought to make sure Stiles was safe, that he was okay.

Luckily it looked like the bullet had winged him, it didn’t hit any major organs, but still. It looked painful. The wolves had all been shot before, of course, but they had always healed seconds later, the pain completely disappearing.

Stiles stumbled slightly, clutching at his side, which was bleeding profusely. “Shit.” He repeated. “They don’t tell you how much that fucking hurts.” he said to himself.

Stiles turned to the pack, seeming relieved when none of them had noticed, and started to stumble out of the warehouse.

“Stiles!” Scott had called out noticing that he was leaving. “Where are you going?”

Stiles didn’t respond, instead continuing to stagger outside to his jeep.

Once he reached it, he quickly pulled off his light gray hoodie and climbed inside.

He instantly used his hoodie to apply pressure to the wound, wincing and whimpering when he touched it. 

Stiles then pulled out his phone, and dialed Danny’s number.

“Stiles?” Danny said, sounding groggy. “It’s like, one in the morning.”

“Yeah, sorry Danny.” Stiles said, sounding pained, his voice tense. “I may have a small problem, and I need your help.”

“What? What happened Stiles? Are you hurt? Is the pack there?” Danny said, now sounding wide awake and panicked.

“Erm…yeah, listen, Danny, I’ll be fine, just, can I drive over to your house right now?” Stiles reassured. “And, um, could you pull out that first aid kit you have?”

“What the hell happened Stiles?” Danny said sounding annoyed that Stiles wouldn’t tell him, and nervous for Stiles.

“Erm, you’ll see in a minute. I’m fine, though, really. I’ll be at your house in ten minutes.” Stiles hung up before Danny could ask anything else, and started his drive to Danny’s.


	17. Chapter 17

Fifteen minutes later, Stiles still hadn’t made it to Danny’s. Luckily, there were very few other cars on the road, because Stiles was driving awfully.

He was driving too slowly and swerving whenever he felt a flash of pain, which was often. He almost crashes into a few trees and a mailbox, but swerved out of the way just in time. He was driving mostly one-handed, trying to use one hand to keep the hoodie pressed up against his side prevent getting blood on his car, which he failed at.

His hands were coated in blood, the wound was still gushing it, and his once grey hoodie was almost completely crimson.

When he finally reached Danny’s house twenty minutes after originally planned, Danny was already on the porch, looking terrified. He relaxed slightly when Stiles’ familiar light blue jeep pulled into his driveway.

The relief quickly disappeared when Stiles practically fell out of his jeep, covered in blood, and collapsed to the hard pavement instantly.

“STILES!” Danny sprinted to his side. “I thought you said you were fine!” He said, pulling up Stiles’ shirt to find the source of the blood. “You didn’t tell me you were fucking bleeding out.” His face dropped when he saw the wound. “Is that a…is that a fucking bullet wound? You got fucking shot?”

“M’fine.” Stiles mumbled. “Just a little dizzy.

“Yeah from blood loss, Stiles!” Danny shouted. “Why the hell did you drive yourself here? Where is the rest of the pack?” A look of realization swept across his face. “They don’t fucking know about this, do they? How the hell do they not know that you were shot?”

“Busy.” Stiles said, every word sounding pained. “Hellhound.”

“Fuck. We’ll deal with them later. Right now, we need to get you inside, fuck, there’s so much blood.” He said, lifting Stiles to his feet to get him inside.

When they finally got inside, Danny led Stiles over to a chair, not wanting to put him on the couch because of the amount of blood, and started pulling things out of the first aid that was already open and ready.

Danny cleaned and stitched the wound, while Stiles sat on the chair getting increasingly more pale from blood loss. Stiles whimpered a few times, but never cried out.

The pack realized with sadness and shock his high his pain tolerance had gotten from all the times he had been injured without them noticing over the past few years.

By the time Danny finally finished up the last few stitches, Stiles looked ready to pass out, and in pain.

“Oh shit, Stiles, sorry I should have given you these earlier.” Danny apologized, handing him some pain killers.

“It’s ‘kay” Stiles muttered, before promptly passing out.

Danny got up from the ground where he had been stitching Stiles up and grabbed Stiles’ phone. He sent a text to Stiles dad, saying that he would be spending the weekend at Danny’s.

The memory faded into Monday morning.

“I really should go to school, Danny. What if the pack notices I’m not there? Or if the school calls my dad?” Stiles was saying to Danny.

“Stiles you got shot three days ago.” Danny pointed out. “There’s no way you’re going to school. You can’t even take five steps without looking pale and ready to pass out.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Watch me.” He said, his face scrunching in pain when the stitches pulled as he stood up.

Stiles stood up and stumbled across the room, before turning around to face Danny.

“See? I’m all good. Let’s go.” He said, already walking out the front door.

Danny sighed and followed him outside. “Fine. But if anyone asks you how you got fucking shot over the weekend, don’t turn to me.” He replied. “Also, speaking of people finding out, what are you going to tell them?”

“Nothing. They don’t need to know.”

Danny groaned. It was obvious that they had this conversation several times over the past few days.

“Yes, they do, Stiles. You can’t keep this up, you know. You have to tell them when you get hurt! What if you can’t get to me in time, and bleed out? You have to tell them. Everything.” Danny insisted.

“It’s not importan-” Stiles started before Danny cut him off.

“Not important? You think your safety and well-being isn’t important?”

“Wow, you’re making me feel so special Danny-boy.” Stiles joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Stiles, this is serious! I need to know that you know how important it is that you’re okay, that you don’t die someday without anyone there to help you, without anyone knowing you’re in trouble.” Danny said, angry that Stiles wasn’t taking this seriously, that he had no sense of self-preservation.

Stiles sighed. “There’s more important things, Danny. What if me being the stupid human who always gets injured ends up getting one of the pack hurt someday? It’s better that they don’t know, that they focus on eliminating whatever threat attacked that week, not on what I’m doing.”

Danny looked saddened at how unimportant Stiles though he was, and how important he really did seem to be to the pack.

The pack were shocked at Stiles’ words, they never knew that Stiles thought this, that he didn’t matter to them. They really hadn’t showed him that he was important to him in any way, though, they realized.

They were always making jokes that Stiles was only good for research, picking on him for being (as they had previously thought) so skinny and lanky.

Jackson was an asshole to him, and the rest of the pack weren’t much better.

Scott was constantly ditching him for Allison, Derek was always growling at him, Lydia was nice, but still acted like she was better than him most of the time. Allison had never formed a close relationship with him, Isaac was always starting fights because he knew how much it ticked Stiles off, and Erica and Boyd had never helped him after Gerard, never told the pack what had happened, or that he had saved them.

Admittedly, Stiles had asked them not to say anything, but they should have ignored him. The pack should have known, should have been there for him.

None of the pack had ever really thought about how their actions had impacted Stiles, how much it had lowered his sense of self-worth, but looking back, they could see it now. Constantly ignoring him and laughing at him had made Stiles feel worthless.

Their faces burned in shame, even Jackson’s.

They didn’t deserve Stiles. He was funny, caring, selfless, and insanely loyal to them, despite everything they had done.

They hadn’t noticed all of his injuries, all of the times he was asked out (!), how hot and muscular he was, and the fact the he might be dating Danny?

Alice had done this as a way to torture Stiles, she probably thought that the pack would just laugh and brush it off, making Stiles feel even worse, but they were glad that she had done this. Not that she had tortured and hurt him, but that she had showed them Stiles’ memories. They needed to see it, and now they needed to make it up to Stiles.

“How about we watch one last memory before we head back?” Alice’s voice suddenly rang out.

Her eyes were fixed on Stiles, who looked mortified by the memories, and hurt, remembering some of his most awful experiences.

The next time the pack looked around, they were standing in a clearing in the middle of the preserve.

They were all shocked. They saw themselves standing in a circle, talking. Last night.


	18. Chapter 18

The pack stared at themselves, discussing what they should do with the omega werewolf. They vaguely remembered telling Stiles to draw the circle of mountain ash around him.

Holy shit.

They left Stiles by himself with an omega werewolf.

They all realized what they had done, and started connecting the pieces.

Stiles running off. Finding him with the witches, four long gashes across his chest. Claw marks. Alice telling the pack that the witches didn’t do that.

They were idiots, they should have realized that he wasn’t okay last night.

They thought back to all the times that Stiles had run off from the pack, either with no explanation, or making up some lame excuse, like meeting his dad for dinner.

All of those times, Stiles had been hurt. What did he do before he had Danny to help him? He should have been able to turn to the pack, but they ensured that Stiles wouldn’t do that.

Did he just go back to his house, pray that his dad wasn’t there, collapse in his room and patch himself up?

They didn’t have to ask, they already knew. They knew that Stiles did exactly that, and they couldn’t blame him. They were awful friends to him.

They continued to watch the scene unfold.

They watched, unable now to do anything, to help, as the werewolf tore his claws through Stiles’ chest, blood everywhere.

Stiles didn’t back down, he barely whimpered, he just finished the circle of mountain ash, like they told him to.

They watched furiously as none of the pack turned around, none of them smelt the blood or Stiles’ pain, strong and dense in the air, now weighing down on them like a pile of rocks.

Stiles started stumbling out of the preserve, back towards his jeep.

They felt a flash of misplaced hope when Scott cried out his name, even though they all knew that he wouldn’t notice Stiles’ injuries.

Stiles could have just kept walking, they knew that Scott would have just shrugged and turned back around to continue arguing with the pack, but he turned around anyways.

Seeing him now, knowing what had happened to him, they were embarrassed that they hadn’t noticed.

Stiles was pale, bloody, covered in dirt, and looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes. He took the time to come up with his lame excuse of the night, the same one he had used all week, but Scott hadn’t noticed at the time. Now, he realized what an idiot he had been.

Stiles made his way back to his jeep, the walk seemingly lasting forever, Stiles getting weaker and slower, losing more and more blood as he went on.

Stiles had thrown his red hoodie on, the one he always seemed to be wearing. Now they knew why. 

They could see the blood still seeping through the hoodie, staining it a darker red. Stiles picked up his phone and replied to a text. The pack couldn’t see it from where they were, and Derek wondered if he was texting Danny.

Stiles pulled out of the preserve, and the memory shifted to him staggering out of his jeep and over to the bushes to throw up.

The pack couldn’t imagine how much pain he must have been in, the claw marks went deep.

He stumbled inside, moving slowly, his face twisted in pain as he made his way up the stairs. Shuffling to the bathroom, he grabbed an emergency, it was beat and old, the pack could tell that he had used it many times over the years.

The pack assumed that Stiles would wait for Danny, and were shocked when Stiles started stitching himself up.

His hands were shaky, his body trembling in pain as he weaved the needle in and out of his wounds to form uneven stitches.

The pack horrified, unable that Stiles was stitching himself up, not calling Danny for help.

Stiles whimpered a few times, but nothing more. The pack began to realize how strong Stiles was, none of them would ever stitch themselves up like this, they probably would have passed out long ago.

An hour later, he tied up the last stitch, sweaty and shaking. He was still coated in now dried blood, so he shuffled over the shower.

After his shower, he took a few pills, the pack guesses they were painkillers, and collapsed onto him bed, looking more exhausted than they had ever seen him, although they realized that they never paid enough attention to ever notice how tired he looked.

They all turned to look at Alice, who was smirking, and darkness filled their vision again.

They next time they looked up, they were back in the warehouse.


	19. Chapter 19

The first thing they heard when they got back to the warehouse was screaming.

Shit. It was Stiles.

That’s why the wolves had sensed his pain during the first memory, she had been using her magic to continue to torture him physically the entire time.

Stiles was lying there, still strapped down to the table, Alice’s hand pressed against his forehead, writhing in agony.

“STOP!” Scott screamed, relieved that he could talk again.

Alice looked at Scott, and Derek took this brief moment of distraction to lunge at her. Unfortunately, all of the other witches were watching the pack to make sure nothing like this happened, and all of their hands soared up instantly, sending out magic to freeze him in midair again.

Alice pulled her hand away from Stiles to stroll away from Derek.

The pack saw Stiles’ tense body relax, too tired and in too pain to try to escape. Not that he would have been able to break the metal clamps around his wrists.

Stiles just lie there, eyes closed, shaking, panting, and covered in sweat. Blood was still pouring out of his previously re-opened wounds, and he had a pounding headache.

He still felt the weird itch under his skin from the weird magical orb Alice had somehow put inside his chest, but it was fading.

When he finally pried open his eyes, it was to find Derek levitating in midair with the rest of the pack standing there looking furious.

“Let…him…go…” Stiles panted to Alice. He turned to the pack. “Get…out…now…” every word was painful. “While…you…can……please.”

“We’re not leaving you here, Stiles.” Erica growled.

Alice laughed. “While I do love this whole situation, let’s get back to the fun stuff.” She said, turning to look at Stiles. “I really loved that little game you played with…what was his name? Gerard? Anyways, let’s try it. Your little pack will watch you get tortured, and all you have to do is say one word. ‘Stop’. “ she said, “But instead of me torturing them, we’ll kill them. One. By. One.” A disgusting smile spread across her face as Stiles and the pack paled.

“Stay. Away. From. Him.” Derek said, growling.

“Why don’t you make me?” Alice chuckled, before pressing both hands onto Stiles, one onto his already pounding head and the other onto his bloody chest.

Stiles scrunched his eyes shut, once again screaming in agony.

His body erupted into an explosion of pain. His insides felt like they were melting, like someone had set him on fire, leaving there to writhe in agony. His brain felt like someone was squeezing his brain, crushing his skull. As he lie there, unable to escape the pain being inflicted on him, he suddenly felt a warmth in his chest.

Not a burning, painful heat like he was feeling in the rest of his body, but a gentle, soothing heat. Almost like a hand, reaching out to soothe him, help him to forget the pain.

The warmth stated to grow, spreading throughout his body, comforting him slightly. He stopped screaming, forcing himself to stop. The pain didn’t disappear, but lessened, helping his sharpen his focus ever so slightly. He realized his eyes were squeezed shut, so he forced himself to pry them open.

He looked at Alice, then at the pack. They were all looking at him, at his chest, with shocked, almost scared looks on their faces, Alice especially.

He looked down, and was shocked to see his chest was glowing a bright whitish-orangey color. At first his overworked brain thought this was Alice’s doing, but he remembered the terrified look on her face.

He thought back to all the books he had read at Danny’s house, the ones about magic that his grandmother had given them to read. He remembered reading about how magic presents itself in teenage years, how one person’s magic, or Spark, could attract other people’s Sparks.

It all clicked into place. That’s why the witches were attracted to Beacon Hills. It wasn’t the Nemeton, it was him. He knew that Danny’s and his grandmother’s Sparks weren’t strong enough to attract other Sparks, Stiles had read about it and Danny had explained that they hadn’t needed to worry about it.

His Spark was the reason that the witches had chosen him to kidnap and torture, rather than anyone else in the pack.

As he made this realization, the warmth, his Spark, continued to grow. It soon felt like it was pulsing on his skin, and Stiles felt like he was holding it in. he probably would have been able to any other time, but he still felt the pain from Alice’s magic, and it was all too much.

It was all building up inside of him, and he decided to just let it go.

A huge blast burst through the warehouse, like an enormous burst of wind, knocking everyone off their feet, sending them flying backwards.


	20. Chapter 20

The pack groaned as they got up, luckily none of them got hurt.

They looked around trying to find the source of the blast, and saw Stiles, his chest still glowing bright, with the metal clamps suddenly gone.

Stiles started to sit up but immediately collapsed backwards, too weak to stay upright.

“Stiles!” Scott called, then turned to the pack. “Come on, we need to get to him.”

The pack looked around wearily, looking for where the witches had landed. When they spotted them across the warehouse, they were relieved to find they were unconscious.

Derek let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and rushed towards Stiles, with rest of the pack following behind.

Stiles looked even worse up close, coated in dried blood, breath coming in heavy pants, dark circles under his eyes.

“Shit.” Derek muttered. “Scott, Jackson, grabs his legs. I’ll grab his shoulders, and we’ll carry him home as fast as we can.”

Stiles suddenly spoke up. “I can walk.” He mumbled, his voice sounding rough and weak.

He started to sit up again and was able to stay upright. He touched his feet to the ground and attempted to stand.

Immediately, his legs collapsed underneath him.

Derek and Scott both grabbed onto an arm before he could hit the ground.

“Stiles, we’re going to pick you up now, okay?” Scott said as if he was talking to a child.

Stiles groaned and mumbled, “I’m still fucking competent.” He started coughing then winced. “Just help me walk.”

Derek and Scott exchanged looks with the rest of the pack. They knew how stubborn Stiles was, and they knew that they would never get out of here if they fought him on this.

“Fine.” Derek said annoyed. “Scott, put your arm under his shoulder, yeah, like that, and I’ll do the same on this side.”

Now supporting Stiles, Scott said, “You sure about this, man?”

Rather than responding, Stiles put his foot out to take his first wobbly step forwards. Scott and Derek quickly started moving too, needing to support him.

The pack slowly made their way back, Derek and Scott practically dragging Stiles, and reached the cars forty-five minutes later. No longer caring what Stiles thought, Derek scooped him up and placed him in the back seat of his jeep.

Stiles was too weak to protest, exhausted from the journey back.

“Scott, you drive the jeep back, Lydia, get in the backseat with Stiles and make sure e doesn’t bleed out.”

“I’ll go with Scott in the front seat.” Allison piped up.

“Okay, I’ll drive my Camaro home, the rest of you, take your own cars back to my place.” Derek replied.

The pack rushed over to their cars and raced home.

During the drive back, Jackson called Danny to tell him to meet them at Derek’s loft, but he didn’t tell him anything else.

Derek hadn’t wanted to leave Stiles, but he knew that Stiles needed his friends right now, and he didn’t want to intrude. He also didn’t want Isaac or Erica driving his Camaro.

When the pack all arrived at Derek’s loft, Danny was already there waiting for them, standing next to his car. 

Scott jumped out out the front seat to help Stiles out of the car. The second his feet touched the pavement, Stiles immediately collapsed to the ground moaning, so Derek rushed to scoop him up.

“Holy shit!” Danny shouted at the pack. “What the hell happened to him? How could you guys let this happen?”

“We’ll tell you inside. Here,” Derek said, tossing Danny the keys, “unlock the door and hold it open for me.”

Danny did as he was told, and Derek raced up the stairs to the top floor, knowing he could make it all the way up before the elevator doors even opened.

The pack followed behind and watched as Derek laid a still concious Stiles down on the table.

Stiles grunted slightly when his back touched down on the table, but otherwise he was silent.

Allison rushed off to grab the first aid kit as Lydia and Danny looked over Stiles’ wounds.

“When the hell, how the hell, did he get these?” Danny growled.

Lydia winced. “Last night.”

“But we didn’t know about them until about an hour ago.” Erica quickly added.

“Shit.” Danny mumbled. “Why didn’t he tell me? And did he stitch these up himself?” he gestured to the claw wounds.

Lydia nodded. “Yeah. I can’t believe none of us knew, I mean, he was bleeding out right in front of us.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you guys didn’t notice when he got hurt. Or notice him at all.” Danny mumbled. He looked up, and said, “You know, Stiles always asked me not to tell you all, but I don’t care anymore.”

“Danny, they already kn-” Stiles whispered in a pained voice, but Danny cut him off.

“Stiles, we have to tell them.” He turned towards the pack. “Stiles gets injured practically every time he goes out to help all of y¬-”

This time, Derek cut him off. “We know, Danny. All of it.”

“You fucking kne-” Danny started to snarl before Derek interrupted him again.

“No, not like that.” He said quickly. Just then, Allison rushed back into the room with the first aid kit. “We’ll tell you after we fix Stiles up.”

Danny moved forward and said, “I’ll fix him up. I’ll probably do the best job. Lord knows I’ve done it enough times.”

The pack stepped back and let Danny get to work.

Derek stepped forwards to take Stiles’ pain when his face scrunched up from the pull of the stitches, but Stiles shrugged him off.

“It’s not too bad.” He mumbled.

Derek placed his hand on Stiles’ shoulder anyways, and almost collapsed the second he started to absorb Stiles’ pain.

He stumbled backwards, and Scott grabbed onto his arm so he didn’t fall over.

“Dude, you okay? What just happened?” Scott asked.

“He’s in a fucking lot of pain.” Derek panted out.

The pack all looked at Stiles, who didn’t react, looking tired and dizzy.

“Come on guys, let’s all absorb his pain at once. That way, none of us will pass out.” Scott said, glancing at Derek.

Stiles’ body immediately relaxed when the wolves started to absorb his pain, and drifted off to sleep a minute later.

The wolves were all covered in a sheen of sweat after twenty minutes, and they all let go before they got too dizzy, except for Derek, who held on until he couldn’t stand anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, so these are all the chapters I have written right now, but I write pretty fast, so the next chapter will be up soon!


	21. Chapter 21

“So, are any of you going to tell me what happened?” Danny started, waiting until Derek sat down to start asking questions.

Scott told Danny everything that had happened, starting from Stiles getting slashed by the omega werewolf the night before, up until they all got in their cars to head home.

The pack jumped in at several points during the story to add in pieces of information that Scott had forgotten.

“Wow.” Was all Danny said once Scott had finished talking an hour later.

The pack waited patiently for Danny to get his thoughts together.

Finally, Danny said, “Stiles was kidnapped as a kid? Shit. How did none of us know that?”

“I knew.” Scott mumbled. “It was awful. He was in the hospital for weeks. They sent him to a therapist afterwards, too, which he hated.”

“Stiles has really been through some awful shit, hasn’t he?” Danny said after a few moments of silence following Scott’s confession.

The pack all looked at Stiles, who looked more peaceful than they had ever seen him. They all took in how strong Stiles was, he had been through so much, and he had kept it all to himself.

They all had guilt rolling off them in waves, except for Danny, who just smelt of sadness and shock.

Derek was sitting down next to Stiles, itching to ask Danny a question, but instead he said, “Why don’t we move him to the couch? It’s much more comfortable than the table.”

Scott immediately sprung up and picked Stiles up, moving him to the living room and placing him on the couch carefully.

After five minutes of sitting around in the living room, Derek couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Are you and Stiles dating?” he blurted out, looking at Danny.

Danny looked up at him in shock for a second before chuckling quietly.

“I forgot that you guys had seen that.” He said. “No, we aren’t dating.” 

“Then why were you guys making out in so many of his memories?” Lydia asked seriously, but this just made Danny laugh harder.

“Ok, sorry.” He said when he finally stopped laughing. “Just to clear things up, yes, we were dating, but we aren’t anymore.”

“Why did you guys break up?” Erica asked.

“Erm, well, you’ll have to ask Stiles more about it, but he told me that…you know I don’t really know if I should be the one telling you this.” Danny decided.

“What?” Scott squawked indignantly. “You have to tell us now!”

“I don’t have to tell you anything about Stiles.” Danny snarled, suddenly angry. “To be perfectly honest, I told Stiles that he should stop helping you guys, but he insisted that he couldn’t just leave all of you.”

The pack all looked down at the ground guiltily.

“You’re right. Stiles should have left us.” Derek said. “We underappreciated him, and never paid him nearly enough attention. We don’t deserve to know anything about him.”

Danny looked at him shocked, obviously not expecting him to apologize so easily. After a few seconds, he seemed to have reached a decision and said slowly, “He told me that there was someone else. That he was in love with someone else and didn’t want to keep leading me on.”

The pack all looked up at him, dumbfounded.

“Did you just say…Stiles is in love with someone?” Scott said incredulously.

“Oh my god.” Allison muttered. “I wonder who it is?”

They all looked at Stiles for a few minutes, trying to figure out who he could possibly be in love with, when Lydia said, “Why don’t I make us all something to eat while we wait for him to wake up?” she gestured to Stiles’ sleeping form.

“That would be great, Lydia, thanks.” Scott replied gratefully. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.”

They all ate the spaghetti with meat sauce that Lydia made in the living room, all of them wanting to be near Stiles when he woke up.

Five hours later, the sleeping pack all heard a small groan from Stiles as he shifted slightly, finally waking up.

Stiles slowly peeled his eyes open and looked at the pack gathered around him.

“Mornin’” he mumbled.

“Stiles! Are you okay? How are you feeling?” Scott asked quickly, before Stiles could fall back asleep again.

“Like I got my chest slashed open by a werewolf and tortured by a coven of witches.” Stiles said sarcastically, his face scrunching in pain when he moved to get up.

“Hey! Wait, Stiles.” Danny said, pushing him back down. “What do you need? I’ll get it for you.”

“Food. I’m starving.” Stiles grunted. “But I can get it myself.” He said, already standing up.

He made it about two steps forwards before his face paled and his legs collapsed beneath him. Luckily, he landed on a few pillows that Boyd had been using, most of the pack having slept on the floor.

“You know, I think I’m going to stay here for now.” Stiles said, massaging his temples to soothe the pain that had burst into his head the second he stood up.

Danny rolled his eyes. “I’ll get you some Advil and make some pancakes.”

Stiles smiled at him gratefully, before rolling back over and falling asleep again before breakfast came.

The pack waited patiently for the next twenty minutes, looking forward to the moment that they could finally wake him up and ask him the millions of questions that were buzzing in the back of their brains.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the next chapter! Thanks to everyone who has been leaving their love in the comments, the nice comments make my day and make me want to write all the time!! I’ll start writing the next chapter and get it up as soon as possible!

By the time Stiles finally woke up, the pack was buzzing with energy, anxious to talk to him about what they had seen, and everything that had happened.

Stiles’ eyes fluttered open, and Scott ran to his side to help him sit up.

Danny placed a plate of pancakes on his lap before sitting down next to him on the couch.

“You feeling better now?”

“Yeah, all good now.” Stiles replied, but just as he said it, he winced when he lifted his arm to grab his fork and it sent a shooting pain down his back.

Danny sighed. “Stiles, you don’t have to lie to us. We know that you’re still in pain.”

The pack nodded in agreement, and Derek moved by his side to take his pain. It wasn’t as strong as it was the night before, but it was still enough that it made Derek dizzy.

The pack waited for Stiles to finish his pancake before they asked anymore questions.

The second he finished, Danny grabbed the plate from him and said, “Stiles, why didn’t you call me last night? You know that I would have come over here the second you called me!”

Stiles looked down at the ground guiltily. “I didn’t want to bother you. It was late.”

“You didn’t want to bother me?!” Danny shouted. “Stiles, I care about you! I would rather drive to your house at one AM than have you bleed out by yourself!”

“But I’m fine, Danny. I stitched myself up, and I’m okay now.” Stiles said calmly. “I get hurt too many times a week to call you every time it happens. I knew I could handle it by myself, so I made the decision not to call you.”

Danny was fuming. “Stiles, you have to call me every single time you get injured! Driving to your house to make sure you don’t die isn’t a bother to me!”

“Okay, Danny I’m sorry. I should have called you. I won’t do this again, I promise, really.” Stiles said.

Danny sighed. “I’m sorry that I yelled. I just needed you to know how important you are. You can’t die, Stiles. It would kill me.”

“All of us. It would kill all of us.” Derek said. Stiles looked at him shocked, surprised by the uncharacteristically kind words coming out of Derek’s mouth. “None of would be able to handle it if you died, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded, a single tear falling down his face. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Don’t apologize, Stiles! You have no reason to. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Scott said. “We’re the ones at fault here. We should have paid more attention to you. We should have always made sure that you were okay.”

“It’s not your fault!” Stiles said quickly. “It’s mine. I’m the stupid human in the pack who can’t take care of himself. I never would have wanted you guys to risk your lives to make sure that I’m okay. Your own safety should come first.”

Derek growled at these words. “Stiles, we’re werewolves. We heal quickly. You don’t. We should have paid more attention to you and your safety. If we had, than none of this would have happened.”

Stiles frowned. “You guys can still get hurt.” He said. “You can get shot with wolfsbane bullets, trapped by mountain ash, electrocuted, stuffed up with mistletoe. I don’t need any of that to happen because of me.”

“Okay, lets’s all make a new pact. We all watch out for each other. We can all make sure that none of those things happen, but our main priority should be making sure that the humans don’t get hurt.”

Stiles smiled slightly and said, “Yeah. I like that. We all need to watch out for each other.”

Erica laughed. “We’re the ones that need to remember that, Stiles. You’ve been watching out for us all along.”

Stiles blushed slightly.

“So, can you forgive us? I mean, if it was me, I wouldn’t, so I understand if you d-” Scott started, but Stiles cut him off.

“Of course I forgive you, Scotty. You’re my brother.” He turned to the rest of the pack. “I forgive all of you. Actually, I never blamed you. This wasn’t your fault, and I’ll never think that it was.”

The pack all felt extremely guilty at these words. They would never deserve Stiles. After everything that he had been through, everything that they had done to him, he wasn’t angry, and he didn’t blame them.

Danny did though, and the wolves could smell the anger coming off him in waves. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Lydia changed the subject.

“Maybe we should talk about what happened back in the warehouse with the blast that knocked out all the witches?” She proposed.

“Yeah,” Scott said, looking at Stiles. “Dude, your chest was glowing, some weird orangey color, and then an explosion knocked us all off our feet, but it only knocked the witches out.”

“Um, I might actually know something about that.” Danny said, looking guilty.

“What? What do you know?” Stiles asked him.

“The day that you met my grandma, remember that?” He asked, and Stiles nodded. “Well, my grandma can sense other people’s auras.” He said slowly. “And, erm, when she sensed yours for the first time, she told me after you left, that you, erm, have magic?” He said nervously.

“WHAT?! I have magic? Why didn’t you tell me?” Stiles shouted incredulously, looking more excited than angry.

“My grandma told me not to tell you, actually. She said that your spark is very strong, very powerful, and, erm, wanted to wait until you were a little bit older to tell you, she wasn’t sure if you could handle that much power at the moment.” Danny said.

Stiles and the pack sat there shocked.

“Holy shit, Stilinski is a fucking magician?” Jackson finally said.

“Actually, he’s called a mage.” Danny replied.

“And what are you, Danny?” Allison asked.

“I’m not exactly sure. I have built up my magic with Stiles’ help, but, as far as I know, I’m just a witch, like my grandma..” He said.

“Did you say just?” Jackson said in disbelief. “You’re my best friend, how could I not know that you have magic?”

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t know much about them until recently.” He replied.

The pack ended up spending the next two hours asking Danny more questions about his powers, Stiles’ powers, and what kinds of things they both could do.

Danny didn’t know much about Stiles’ magic, never having met a mage before, but he told them everything that he remembered reading from his grandma’s books.

Stiles added in a few comments here and there, mentioning something that he had read over the past few months with Danny.

When Stiles and the pack finally ran out of questions, they sat in silence for a moment, trying to absorb all the new information.

After a few minutes, Erica asked the question that had been in the back of their minds, the one they had been dying to know the answer to.

“So, erm, Stiles.” She started. “Danny told us that you two broke up a while ago, and that you told him it was because…because you’re in love with someone else?”


	23. Chapter 23

Stiles’ face instantly went ghostly pale. He instantly got up and left the room, leaving to sit there and wonder who it could possibly be.

Derek rushed out after Stiles, wanting to apologize for not stooping Erica from asking such a personal question in front of everyone, even though he had been wondering the exact same thing.

He found Stiles just outside the room sitting down on the ground, panting. His injuries had forced him to sit down after just a few steps.

Derek made sure to close the loft door so the pack couldn’t hear, as he had soundproofed the room as soon as he moved in, to prevent any supernatural ears from listening in on conversations.

He walked over and took a seat next to Stiles. He gave Stiles a few minutes to breathe and recover before he started talking.

Once he was satisfied that Stiles’ breathing was back to normal, he started his apology.

“Stiles, listen, I’m really sorry about what happened back there with Erica, I knew that someone would eventually ask, and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell them all in advance not to mention it, I know that’s not something you would want to talk about in front of everyone.” He said.

Stiles looked at him with wide eyes, trying to think of a response, but the only thoughts running through his head were questions. Why was Derek being so nice to him suddenly? Was it because he felt pity for Stiles? Or did he actually care about him?

When Stiles didn’t say anything, Derek decided to keep talking.

“I know we don’t have any right to know who it is you’re in love with. We don’t deserve you at all, really. You’re funny and loyal and smart, and you’ve done so much for the pack. You’ve researched every single creature that’s come to Beacon Hills, and then some, and you’ve saved all of our lives at least once, mine especially.” He knew he was rambling but kept going anyways. “You mean so much to all of us, Stiles, and I’m so sorry we haven’t paid attention to everything you’ve gone through to help us protect he town. If I had known, I would ha-”

Stiles suddenly surged forwards and pressed his lips against Derek’s effectively cutting him off.

Derek was too stunned to react, and by the time he had finally registered that Stiles had kissed him, he was already pulling away.

“Shit.” Stiles mumbled, then looked up at Derek. “I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have done that. I know you don’t like me that way, you’ve shown me plenty of times, but it was you. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since we first met, and I’m sorry that I kissed you.” He said, and when Derek didn’t respond, he started getting up, wincing, and said, “I should probably go home now. I’ll understand if you don’t want me around anymore. I know how awkward it will be, so, don’t worry. I’ll keep my distance.

Stiles had already taken a few steps towards the elevator, leaning heavily against the walls, before Derek had finally processed what had happened.

Never having been one to use his words, Derek rushed forwards, grabbed Stiles’ face, and pressed his lips up against Stiles’. Stiles grinned slightly beneath his lips and kissed back eagerly.

His lips parted, allowing Derek to press his tongue into Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles groaned when Derek’s teeth nipped at his bottom lip and his tongue moved further inside of his mouth. He pulled Stiles closer, wrapping his arms around his waist, and listened to the sound of Stiles’ heart fluttering.

When Stiles finally pulled away, the happiness washing off of him dulled down slightly, and the scent of confusion filled Derek’s nose.

“So, you love me too?” Stiles asked unsurely, and Derek nodded slightly, with a smile on his lips.

“Stiles, I’ve known I’ve loved you since the night you saved me from the kanima. It’s been so hard not saying anything, there’s been countless times where I’ve just wanted to kiss you, tell you how I felt, how I feel.” Derek replied.

Stiles, still smelling of confusion, replied, “But why didn’t you tell me? If it was that hard not to, why didn’t you just say something?”

“I didn’t know if you would want me back. I’m just the grumpy Alpha, who’s always shoving you around. Why would you ever want me?” Stiles frowned slightly at this and opened his mouth to say something, but Derek started talking before he could. “Even on the off chance that you did love me back, I didn’t want to get between you and Scott. You guys were already on thin ice, there had been so much tension between you two ever since he started ditching you for Allison, and I didn’t want to be the reason your friendship ended.”

Once Derek had finished rambling, Stiles started talking. “I can’t believe you ever thought that I wouldn’t want you back. I thought it had been obvious, I mean, I’ve been desperately in love with you for quite a while. Although, I guess I am being a little hypocritical. You just said that you’ve felt the same for just as long, and I never would have believed that you could ever love me back.”

Derek smiled. “I guess we’re both oblivious idiots then.” He said, leaning in for another kiss.

This one was quick, as Stiles pulled away and said, “I think we should go tell the pack. They love being involved in other people’s business.” He smirked.

Derek helped Stiles up, and they moved in the door to tell the pack the news.

The second they walked in, Scott immediately said, “Why do you two smell like you’ve just been-Holy shit!” he cut himself off. “You two, you’re together now?”

Stiles nodded, grinning.

“I thought you two would never figure it out.” Lydia said, looking pleased. The pack all looked at her, surprised, but she just said, “I’m not even a werewolf and I can practically smell the sexual tension rolling off them every time they’re in a room together.”

Stiles and Derek bushed brightly, but the rest of the pack just laughed.

They all rushed forwards to form a big group hug, and the rest of the night was spent congratulating the two and listening to their stories about how they knew they loved each other, how long they’ve known, how both had wanted to tell the other for a long time.

When it was finally nighttime, the pack all cuddled up on the floor to form what Stiles had liked to call a ‘puppy pile’.

Danny had looked hesitant to join at first, but eventually settled down, looking content.

Just before Stiles drifted off to sleep, Derek muttered, “I love you, Stiles.”

“I love you too, Derek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Please continue to leave kudos and comments, I love the feedback and it really makes my day!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter!! Enjoy!

Three months later, and Stiles was happier than he’d ever been before.

He and Danny had read everything they could on mages during Stiles’ recovery, and after a week Stiles was able to cast a simple spell to heal his wounds as best he could.

He had felt much better afterwards, better than he had in months.

He spent the next few weeks afterwards learning little spells, which drove the pack crazy. He would secretly levitate food off their plates and onto his, or place spells so that one of the packs members would suddenly not be able to understand English, so the rest of them would have to mime out everything they wanted to say until he lifted the spell.

Little pranks like these made life feel a little more normal, like it had before Scott had been bitten and Stiles was sent to the principal’s office daily for whatever havoc he had caused that day.

He also loved spending his time with Derek, wanting to be around him as much as he could, making up for lost time. He couldn’t believe that they had both been in love with each other for so long without knowing.

It saddened him whenever he thought of all the great memories they could have shared, but he tried to focus on all the good times to come.

He talked to Derek whenever he was feeling depressed, or had a nightmare, and Derek listened, always knowing what to say and when to say it.

Promising to talk through his problems with Derek was the only way he could convince his dad not to send him to therapy.

Derek had convinced Stiles to tell his dad about what had been happening and about all of his injuries, and his dad freaked out. Derek was there, and he managed to calm him down slightly, but it took a considerable amount of convincing to talk him down from sending him to a therapist again.

Not that Stiles had anything against therapists, he knew that they helped tons of people, but he knew from experience that telling a stranger about his problems wouldn’t help him. Especially now that most (all) of his problems involved the supernatural.

Stiles sometimes turned to Scott to talk about what he was going through when Derek wasn’t around, although that didn’t happen often. Derek made an effort to be near Stiles as often as possible, he seemed to be making up for lost time too.

Scott and Stiles’ friendship had been repaired, Scott made an effort to put time aside in his schedule to spend with Stiles rather than Allison. Stiles hadn’t truly realized how much he had missed spending time with his best friend until now, and he appreciated every second with all of his friends more than ever.

Even Jackson, who had warmed up slightly, and realized that he could actually be friends with Stiles, he didn’t need to be an asshole towards him all the time.

Stiles started to spend more time with Lydia, and they both discovered that they had a lot in common, and always had something to talk about.

He had also grown closer with Erica and Boyd, who had been avoiding him ever since the night they had been kidnapped by Gerard, not wanting to bring up any memories. Stiles talked to them about it, and discovered that they had blamed themselves for being too weak to help him. Stiles reassured them, telling them that he had never blamed them for what Gerard had done, and informed them that he had felt the same way.

They were shocked by this, and told him that there was no way they could have ever expected him to save them from Gerard and his two guards, but he had managed to do it anyways when he had knocked over the machine that was sending electricity in their bodies. They thanked him for saving their lives, and apologized for not saying it before.

Stiles had blushed at this and insisted that he didn’t need a thank you, that he had done what anyone in his situation would have done.

Stiles was the least close with Allison and Isaac now, but they were still good friends with him. Isaac had stopped fighting with him all the time, and discovered that Stiles’ sarcastic comments were actually funny, and he never meant anything by them.

Allison had approached Stiles one day and apologized for stealing his best friend, but Stiles had brushed it off. He told her that it was in the past, and he and Scott were back to being brothers again.

That seemed to be his new motto, the past is the past. He said these words to the pack constantly, any time that they had felt the need to apologize for their previous actions.

Stiles wanted to get back to normal, well, as normal as life in a werewolf pack could be.

Even though he missed life before the supernatural, he knew he could never go back, even if he didn’t have his magic.

He knew that if one day he decided to leave his life in Beacon Hills behind, go off to start fresh somewhere else, somewhere with less death and sorrow and destruction, he would always come back.

He could never leave behind his friends, his life, the rush of pride that he felt when he helped the pack take down whatever supernatural creature had crept in that week.

His life was far from perfect, but he wouldn’t change anything about it. He loved finding new spells with Danny to prank the pack with, spending time with Scott practicing lacrosse or even just sitting down to talk. He went on runs with the rest of the pack every Sunday morning, and went on long, peaceful walks through the preserve with Derek.

He had been through a lot of rough times in his life, but the pack was helping him get through them, and he was glad that he had made the decision to forgive them. He could never be mad at them for long, they were his family. Yeah, they made some mistakes, they had let him down, but he knew that it was from stress and fear for what monster would come to attack next.

He was glad that they were all able to put the situation behind them and move on.

He was grateful for a lot of things, and wished that his life could always stay this good, with the pack by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you guys enjoyed this fic! I had a ton of fun writing it, and hope to write more in the future!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments telling me what you think, or if you have any prompts for me! I love reading/writing about hurt! Stiles, so any suggestions would be great. :)


End file.
